


Customer Service

by Befudle



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Other, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader has boobs, Skippable porn, THIS IS MOSTLY METTATON sans has a scene later but its MOSTLY Mettaton, Workplace romance gone wrong, and has anxiety issues, might get a little anxty, reader is a wage slave, tons of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-11 07:03:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5617708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Befudle/pseuds/Befudle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I changed the title back because im finicky af</p><p>New Summary: In which Mettaton maybe takes it personally that you aren't immediately head-over-heels with him the moment you meet.  Very personally.  As in "It is now his goal to take you on a date if it kills him" personally.</p><p>Too bad you two REALLY just don't get along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Work Time

**Author's Note:**

> okay cool ive got this idea stuck in my head (along with like 4 others) but i actually have a couple chapters already loaded up woohoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://otaku-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com/

When you meet him, you're working.

You knew who he was immediately, of course, you've seen him on TV and most of the monster's you've come to meet are want to talk about the _gift_ that was the creation of Mettaton; but you're working.

Well, you admit its pretty cool that he was the sole celebrity personality for the _entire_ Underground but, really, what's that mean to you? He's a person, like everyone else... And if you're being honest, you find him a little overbearing. Not that you know him _personally_ , but, y'know, you doubt one can fake those levels of flamboyancy. He's practically his own flamboyant ship. The S.S. Drama Queen.

Heheh.

Not to mention, being staff leader, you're the one your boss saddled with moving all of Mettaton's stage equipment. All of it. By yourself. You still have a microphone-shaped bruise on your ass and that was a full 24 hours ago.

Anyway, you're not nearly as entranced as _every single one of your co-workers._

Catty nearly causes you to drop the tray of champagne you were assembling as she dramatically hangs from your shoulder.

"He's, like, HERE!"

You politely remove her paws from your shoulder. "Yes, He is." was your lame reply.

Pulling her hair, she screams quietly. It sounds a bit like someone letting the air out of a balloon. Slowly. "How are you, like, NOT freaking out? I seriously, I like- I can't even. I can't!"

Shrugging, you hand her the tray of champagne, which she receives with stars in her eyes.

"Well, you better _can_ , because your area looks pretty thirsty."

"Are you kidding me? _I'm_ , like, pretty thirsty." she winks, nudging you with her free elbow.

With a groan, you fix her bow tie and nudge her out of the assembly area. "Yeah, well, deal with that when you're off the clock."

Giggling, she gives you another wink before rushing out into the dining area. You roll your eyes.

Unfortunately for you, Catty's fangirl-y tendencies were the least of your worries.

Your employer made quite a few sacrifices to get Mettaton here and, considering that "The Rat and the Wheel" isn't exactly "L'Oiseau Rare", it was fairly substantial. The first being that, for the week he would be performing at your humble workplace, was that he would be staying on site.

Which would have been fine, since you (and by "you" you do mean " _ **you**_ ". Your employer made darn sure that was understood.) would able to get lowered rate accommodations at the hotel next door, so long as Mr. Haus and his wife could have dinner for free a couple times that week, (and you walked their dog... and their cat. And also babysat their kids once or twice...).

However, after speaking with your employer, Mettaton politely refused your laboriously brokered deal and said he meant he would be _literally_ staying on site.

You still have to walk Mr. Haus' damn yappy dogs just for cancelling on them.

But that was all _fine!_ Sometimes performers have to change their arrangements and that was totally. Fine.

What _really_  ground your gears (heh) was the fact that, on top of him living here?

So do you.

You live in a tiny studio apartment approximately 20 feet from the door and can hear the music blaring from his trailer right outside your window where the theater parking lot merges with your apartment complex's.

Maybe you _do_ take it a little personally.

Luckily for the raw chicken you were slowly strangling/preparing, you hear a glass shatter in the dining room, followed by resounding gasps. Judging from the volume of the gasps, it sounds like whatever broke broke on something or some _one_ important.

Seems like it might be situation-diffusing time.

You arrive in the dining room and, not to your surprise, most of the room is clapping. You spare a brief moment to curse entitled pricks across the world before you realise that these people are, in fact, _not_ applauding a disaster of dishware but a champagne tray seemingly hovering near an entranced Catty with eight glasses of champagne stacked neatly in a pyramid (for some reason).

No, wait, make it seven

Looking just below the tray, you find the source of the shatter.

"Darn! Seems I missed one!"

Just to your left, you found him standing there, somehow looking both smug and put out at the same. You have no idea how he manages that, but you resign yourself to future hours spent trying to recreate the expression in your bathroom mirror out of pure curiosity.

Now that you've noticed him, sassy hand on sassy hip and all, you notice his right arm extended impossibly far beyond the reach of a normal arm-length into the dining room and-

Oh that's why it's hovering. Huh.

You shake your head without any real emotion and begin to make your way to the shattered glass that a starry-eyed Catty seems to be ignoring.

"Er- Hello, darling! I don't think we've met." Automatically, you turn. His expression is so that you've seen on too many a man in his 60's with conservative bumper stickers.

"Sorry, Sir, I'll be with you after I clean this up." is your ever-practiced reply, and you continue to the mess. You feel a little guilty for taking satisfaction from his startled expression.

As you approach, Catty's giddiness levels seem to rapidly increase. Once you arrive at the mess and feel a cold metal hand on your shoulder you realize why.

You turn to your tag-along and are greeted with a somewhat stilted yet still charming look that would probably be a lot less irritating if you were less irritated.

"Yes- Sorry, darling, I actually meant to introduce myself!" he suddenly looks a lot less awkward. "Well, you obviously know who _I_ am." he says with a flourish that lets you know hes used the exact same phrase a million times. You couldn't be less impressed if you tried. Which you might even have done if you were just a little more petty.

You put on your best "I am the waiter, programmed to serve" look in your arsenal of "Faces that definitely don't describe how you're feeling at that moment" and (while making eye-contact because you are a _badass_ ,) take the tray that his hyper-extended arm is still holding to the left of you and hold it poshly on the tips of your fingers.

"In fact, I _am_ aware, Sir, I'm the one who moved all your Equipment."

You hear Catty gasp behind you and, really, you cant blame her. You would _never_ talk back to a customer. Not in 10 Million years. Everyone knows. Your customer care is _legendary._

Luckily for you, Mettaton inst paying for _shit,_ now is he.

As satisfying as ever, his startled expression greets you, unable to read anything in your own. You give a smile you've given to many a no-tipper and hand off the tray to Catty before quickly collecting the (thankfully few) shards of broken glass and excuse yourself back to the kitchen. As you leave you hear a dull thud behind you and choose to ignore it; you had just realized how many eyes were on you and not even the goddamn apocalypse could stop you from retreating back to the kitchen.

 


	2. Free Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You walk Mr. Haus' dog and meet some people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus heck the first chapter got so much love so quickly its incredible!! thank you all so much you're all so fucking sWEET GOSH
> 
> so i was gonna try and space these out a bit more but you know what chapter 2 is done and you earned it here you go kids
> 
> also like super slight blood warning, just thought i'd say. I have chirophobia so this was a little uncomfortable to write but yeah. blood. just a lil.
> 
> and ps sorry if you dont actually like transformers ;;;;;;
> 
> http://otaku-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com/

After that day, you've kind of been avoiding him like the plague.

Once the rush from feeling like _The-Hardcore-Sarcastic-Bitch-You-Always-Kinda-Wished-You-_ _Were_ had worn off, you felt pretty guilty.

Aside from the pompous little spiel he'd given you during your "introduction", he hadn't really done anything purposely to torment you. You imagine any other person would be a little more conscious to blaring their music at night next to people's homes but, really, you couldn't pin the misunderstanding with Mr. Haus and his wife on him.

Ironically, this line of thought comes to you as you are walking their yappy Pomeranian.

It had been early the morning the day after he had arrived and two days before he was actually scheduled to have a show at your workplace. He was expected to be on site for a total of ten days (only 7 of which your boss would be paying for), and you had managed to possibly hurt his feelings in less than 48 hours.

It was now day 3 and, seeing how you spent most of your life in that building, that gave you plenty of chances to be almost forced to interact with him yet narrowly escape.

Even on the _day of_ the "incident" you'd accidentally made caught his gaze more times than you could count on your _eyelashes_ , and nearly tripped on him even more times than that. Worse, however, is that, every time he noticed your almost-interaction, he got this ridiculous gleam in his eye (the one you could see, at least). You're unsure if he's some kind of sadist excited to enact revenge... or maybe a masochist excited for you to yell at him some more? Maybe? You shouldn't relate this situation to sex.

Either way, he's very obviously been trying to corner you and you're very much NOT inclined to let that happen. And, as much as you dislike Mr. Haus' annoying dog, you also appreciate the time not spent keeping a watchful eye out for robots with legs up to _here_.

And, speaking of Ms. Babydoll, you register her stopping. You take the opportunity to check your phone.

You have a bout 15 texts from both Bratty and Catty (seeing as they share a phone) that you've been ignoring ever since you had back-talked their celebrity idol, and about 3 from your boss. You check the ones from your boss, and- seeing that they're just reminders to get scheduling and truck order's done on your day off- you opt to ignore them. Of course you were going to get those done! When have you ever forgotten to-

"you really gonna let that dog poop there?"

What?

As your eyes were on their way to meet the eyes of the person addressing you, they stopped short at the Pomeranian squatting right in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Oh my god- - No!" Making disgusted noises, you practically toss the poop machine into the grass... Getting bitten in the process. Wonderful. Ms. Babydoll trots off as if nothing happened and continues production.

You wipe the slobber off your injured hand, hissing in pain. Soft snickering reminds you that there was another person there.

Your eyes meet probably the eeriest little eyes rivaling those of the Pomeranian that you had just affronted. "Oh"

"oh?'

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry- Uh-" Pushing down a flare of embarrassment, you quickly switched to the familiar steps of Customer Service mode. You put on a big ol' fake smile.

"Wow, sorry about that! I guess I wasn't paying attention, haha. Can I help you?" oh fuck people don't say that to each other. You should be worried about how far you've fallen into Menial Worker Hell.

"uh, no i dont need any help. do you though? that's bleeding kind of a lot."

What? Looking down you realize that, indeed, your hand is bleeding all the way down your fingers and is dripping rapidly. Looks like Ms. Chuckydoll nicked a vein. You decide _not_ to resist glaring at the dog happily pooping a few feet away.

"OH MY GOSH! HUMAN! YOU'RE LEAKING VERY MUCH! DO YOU NEED A HOSPITAL?"

You blink. You don't know why though, since it's actually your ears that need help now. Looking up you realize that there are, indeed, two peeople standing there instead of one. And, becoming steadily more observant, you realize he is a skeleton. Looking back to Guy #1 and yep he's a skeleton too. Wow how was it possible that it took you this long to realize something like that?

"Uh, n-no, sir, I should be fine!"

"sir?"

"ARE YOU SURE? HUMANS ONLY HAVE SO MUCH BLOOD IN THEM AND THAT LOOKS LIKE A LOT!"

Looking back down at your hand you see that literally your whole hand is now bloody and you have thick drips of the splattered on your shoes. Disgusted, you wipe off as much as you can onto your jeans before cradling it to yourself.

That's it, customer service mode OFF. Pretending that you're dealing with customers has you ignoring too much of your surroundings.

"Wow, uh, yeah I'll be fine. I can just wrap it up when I get home."

"aren't you worried it'll get infected?"

"I mean, they say dog mouths are cleaner than human mouths or something like that, so I guess It's whatever."

"human mouths must be pretty gross then."

At your curious look he gestures with a nod to the grass. Following his direction, you let out a groan as Ms. Babydoll carelessly chows down on her own little nuggets. You harshly yank her leash, earning you a growl as she's forced to drop her snack. She scampers up to your boots and viciously maybe damages them a little.

Trying to get the peeved Pomeranian off you boot, You're completely caught off guard as the tall one slams the cutest little Disney C _ars_ backpack onto the sidewalk right in front of you.

"WELL, WORRY NOT! I, THE GREAT AND PREPARED PAPYRUS, COME FULLY EQUIPPED WITH A HUMAN REPAIR KIT!"

You feel like you and Ms. Babydoll might've blinked in unison.

Then you kinda feel like an idiot as (the, apparently, Great) Papyrus pulls out probably the most sticker-covered first-aid kit you've ever seen. From out of it he pulls an obscene amount of bandage, gauze pads, and a variety of gendered band-aids (Ben 10 "For Boys!" and Hello Kitty "For Girls!"- though it seems they've all been mixed together into one  box).

You barely manage to get out a "uheuah?" before he's scooped up your hand and is gently cleaning it with a gauz pad and peroxide. You glance to the shorter skeleton hoping for an explanation, but he's just watching the other with a swell of... Affection? Wait how was he even making that expression?

You consider trying to get your hand back from the skeleton earnestly (and ridiculously gently) trying to clean your "wound", but then you realize exactly how much first-aid supplies you have at home (the answer is none) and you decide to enjoy the free (and frankly adorable) health care you're receiving at the moment.

"So, uh, I take it you're Papyrus?"

He beams at you and so help you you're blushing.

"YES! AND THIS IS MY WONDERFUL LAZYBONES BROTHER, SANS! WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE TAKING A RELAXING WINTER WALK, BUT HE KEPT DECIDING TO TAKE SHORTCUTS- COMPLETELY DEFEATING THE PURPOSE!" He shouted up at you, pointedly looking back towards his brother apparently. Who shrugged and, thankfully, stepped on the end of the dog leash you hadn't realized you'd let go of.

"Oh, that's cool. Nice to meet you."

Mr. Lazybones brother gives you an expectant look (How?). You're confused for about a full second before you try to facepalm ('try' being the operative word. The (great) skeleton currently repairing your hand scolds you briefly for it.) And tell them your name.

Also, realizing that you are still in your work clothes that you had forgotten to take off last night, you point to your name tag. Sans Lazybones raises an eyebrow at you... Eyebrow bone.

He looked like he was about to say something before your impromptu nurse interrupted him. "OKAY! ALL FIXED!"

You take a look and wow yeah. You shoot a glare at Ms. Babydoll.

"WHICH BAND-AID DO YOU WANT?" Wow, how fricken cute.

"Uh, whichever is fine. I'm not picky."

Papyrus, frankly, look scandalized.

"WHAT? NONSENSE! YOU HAVE TO PICK WHICH LITTLE STICKER PERSON YOU WANT TO PROTECT YOUR WOUND!" Oh jeez.

With a sigh that was definitely not to try and dissipate the heat rising in your cheeks (not that it worked even if that WAS the case. Which it wasn't.) You peered down into the overstuffed box of band-aids he was earnestly presenting to you, intent on picking a random one-

"Woah, is that Transformers?" The two skeletons shared a look before you were digging in and-

"Ah! It's Jazz! OH my gosh, hes my favorite!"

Papyrus proceeds to gently apply the bandage while sans gives you an amused look. You opt to not try and decipher it.

"He's so cool- he's special op's Autobot who likes music and dancing and- uh"

"he's a robot? hey pap, reminds you of someone we know, doesn't it?"

Papyrus held up a finger so that he could concentrate on perfectly applying the bandage. The look of concentration on his face was so intense it made you nervous to be the subject of such scrutiny.

"HMMM... NO... HE DOESN'T LOOK FAMILIAR..."

"heh, no bro, i mean a certain singing dancing robot _we_ know."

Wait, he didn't mean-

"OH! YOU MEAN METTATON?"

Oh god.

Both Sans and Papyrus the Great give you a surprised look. Did you say that out loud?

"you a fan? we could introduce you, maybe."

You couldn't suppress your surprised laugh in time. They're both looking at you now. You start to sweat.

"Ah, sorry-uh..." Okay, how do you say 'Yeah, not only have I met him, I've managed to hurt his feelings/piss him off within literally 5 minutes of speaking to him.'

Luckily, your big dumb mouth didn't broadcast _that_ thought immediately. You elect to escape the conversation as quickly as possible.

"I should actually-"

"OH, HUMAN, WE'RE ON OUR WAY TO SEE HIM NOW! YOU MUSTN'T MISS THIS OPPORTUNITY! TO BE INTRODUCED TO YOUR IDOL BY SUCH A PRESTIGIOUS SKELETON- YOU TWO ARE SURE TO BE FAST FRIENDS!" Before you can get any words out, lord help you he's slipped his own hand into yours.

Before you can squeeze your hand out of the (quite tight) skeleton grip and make your retreat, you turn back to Sans. Sans who is now holding the leash to Ms. Babydoll and giving you a glare that spells out only bad times if you let go of his brother's hand.

Whelp.

You needed to apologize to Mettaton sometime.


	3. Still Free Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy so warning: reader has a panic attack. It all turns out ok.
> 
>  
> 
> http://otaku-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com/

You're an asshole.

You are SUCH an asshole. And generally a bad person. You want to hide in your hands and never come back out.

It wasn't Mettaton's trailer sitting outside your building blaring music the last two nights. Of course it wasn't, it was plain and not eye-scarringly pink. You learn this after the skelebrothers tell you they needed to stop "home" before meeting Mettaton.

So, maybe your opinion of the brothers dropped a little bit, but now you realize that in no way did Mettaton deserve what you did to him.

You are genuinely a terrible person.

You spend the next 10 minutes waiting for them to return with a cigarette in your hand, a solemn expression on your face, an evil dog at your side, and an apology forming in your head.  You don't think you could be more miserable if your name was "Burgerpants.".

After another ten minutes (which you spent trying to do your day-off responsibilities), the skelebrothers finally hopped back out and startled both cigarette and phone out of your hand.

"woah, you smoke?"

Picking up your phone, you elected to ignore him as you tried not to weep over your now-cracked screen.  You couldn't resist a soft, wobbly croon however. You're pretty sure Sans blinked at you.

"uh, anyway, there's a couple people here if you wanna meet them."

You already feel your anxiety rising up from your stomach. Did you really want to meet them? This is why you tend to stay in Waiter-Programmed-To-Serve Mode.  Then, you feel almost as if you're in autopilot. Nothing you say or project is genuine, so you can just keep smiling and being polite without having to put your own emotions into the equation.  It makes sense in a kinda messed up way. Whatever.

Looking between your cracked screen and your fizzled cigarette on the ground, you quickly realize that no, you really don't want to meet  anyone right now. Including Mettaton. You can apologize to him tomorrow; but with a phone newly cracked, a half-baked apology in your head and a knot of anxiety suddenly making itself glaringly un-ignorable, you feel yourself swiftly falling into sensory overload.  All you really wanna do is go home to your tiny apartment and finish making the truck order for  _The Rat and Wheel_ under a blanket with some soft music in the background. Maybe, afterwords, you could get some chores done and treat yourself to a cup of tea and a candle.  Right now all you feel is panic creeping in at the corners of your head and suddenly the idea of more people existing in the world other than just you is overwhelming.

You nod to sans. "Sure." You say.

After a moment of nothing happening, you realize he must have expected you to come in. Once you look up, however, you see he's actually closed the door and is standing  much closer to you than you remember. For no reason, you notice he comes up to about your chest. He's holding his hand up in a way that looks like he was going to touch your arm but stopped somewhere along the way. Curiously, you don't feel like lying anymore.

"I... I think I'm going to go home.  I don't feel good."

He nodded sympathetically and dropped his hand. He didn't look dejected at all- just that, maybe, he knew touching you wasn't a good idea. You get the impression he knows how you feel.

"it's alright kid, i'll tell them something came up. don't sweat it."

You give him a small smile. Probably the first honest smile you've given anyone in a while.  He seems to be one for constant smiling; you imagine he might understand how you feel in that regard too.

This might be a bad idea, but you pull a pen from out of your shirt pocket and motion for his hand.

 

* * *

 

"yeah, something came up all of the sudden and they had to split."

"What?! UGH that sucks. I was excited to see if there were any humans that WEREN'T huge weenies!"

"I-I'm sure they'll come back around.  I mean, i-if they really wanna meet Mettaton, we're probably their best shot!"

Papyrus, whose eyes had been welling up with big ol' bone tears, sprang up suddenly with determination. "YOU'RE RIGHT!! I HEREBY VOW TO GET THAT HUMAN AND METTATON IN A ROOM TOGETHER AT LEAST ONCE!!!"

"Hmm... Even if they don't come back to here, I think we'll be hearing from them." Hummed Toriel, who was gently bouncing a 3DS-playing Frisk on her knee.  At the inquisitive glances her comment received, she gave a cheeky smile and a pointed look to where your phone number was written on the back of Sans' hand.

By now, you were much too far away to hear the raucous laughter coming from the trailer. Particularly the well-practiced electronic laughter of a certain superstar everyone was hoping to see in this chapter.

Instead, all you hear are the furious shouts from Mr. Haus and his wife over the phone as you realize you forgot to drop off their dog.

 


	4. Back To Work Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, so like, if you check FF this fic WILL be there, however its only the first chapter because that site SUX and reviews dont work.
> 
> sorry if you don't like the fact that reader smokes, but lik 99.999% of wage slaves (like myself) do, so i figured i'd toss it in. They get better though ;)
> 
> also, IM SO SORRY FOR HOW LATE THIS IS. work has actually been happening lately (new jobs, still settling in) and i've not had a lot of time to sit down and birth this sucker
> 
> im not too happy with the end product either, but i'd rather you guys have it than me sit here and slowly hate it more and more. if i decide to go back and tweak it, ill let you guys know
> 
> http://otaku-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com/

You and Sans have been texting like a tweenage couple since you got home.

After dropping off Ms. Babydoll and returning home, you got your first text from him and you ended up not getting any of your chores done like you had planned. You _did_ end up with about 15 chore-related puns saved to your phone, however. Luckily, it seemed only your screen was damaged when your phone went for a dive.

Eventually, while valiantly working through a fit of giggles ("Dishes who?" "Dishes a very bad joke"), you decided to let him in on a secret. 

**Knock knock**

**whos there ;0**

**my room**

**my room who  ?:0**

**my room on the top floor. number 066. wanna hang out for a bit?**

Waiting for a reply, you went back to the frying pan you had been trying to scrub for the last 20 minutes and, thanks to your soapy hands, were seconds too late to catch your phone as it took its second Flying Christ of the day.

You dried your hands on your pants quickly and could've cried from the crunching noise your phone made as you carefully lifted it from it's face down position on the floor.

Then you realized you're getting a call from Contact Name: Mr. Lazybones. You let it vibrate loudly in your hand for another full second.

God you hate phone calls. You considered hanging up.

"U-uh, hello?" 

"yeah, uh, hey."

...Why is texting so much easier than talking.

"Uhm- what's up?"

"i was just making sure you're okay. your last text was kinda abrupt."

You think about it. You face palm- completely forgetting about the bubbles on your hand.

"Oh god, no, sorry! Everything's fine. It's just, I live in the parking lot youre staying in- I mean the apartment! I live in the apartment whose parking lot you, uh... Are in?"

Incredible. Awkward silence.

"And I was bored?"

Okay, technically, you were busy. Very, very busy. You still wouldn't mind the company. Oddly, inviting him to your home after just hours of knowing him doesn't feel as weird as it probably should.

"and do what?"

You pause.

"Watch me do the dishes?"

"that sounds like the set-up for a weird pun. i'm in. when should i come up?"

"Ha. Just whenever."

"cool, see you in a few."

Despite the abruptness of your invitation, the rest of the evening is filled with laid-back conversation and chores.  He never offered to help but you didn't bother to take it personally, his presence too relaxing.

He ended up staying until much later in the evening- long after you had finished your chores- and you two wasted the evening with Netflix and the big fluffy comforter from your room.

It was probably the most relaxed you had been in a while. You only felt the urge to hit him once, when you finally noticed the bubbles still on your forehead that he never bothered to mention to you.

 

* * *

  

To say that the synthesized cough beside you didn't just scare the living bejeesus out of you would be a filthy lie. If anyone asked, you were still going to lie, however.

He was standing to your left, looking simultaneously smug, amused, and excited and, as with all of his other combo-facial expressions, you were sure you were going to try that out in the mirror later.  Right now, you were busy being terrified. Days of arduous avoidance were just wasted all because you were reading a pun about back pain from Sans.

Without meaning to, he had stayed the night on your couch. With you. He may/may not have ended up cuddling in your lap as he slept, which was fine because boy was he light. And boy, did he make an excellent teddy bear. You'd both been woken by your 7:30 alarm to get ready for work and, after exchanging awkward chuckles, he left with a parting pun and you got ready for another day in paradise.

And now here you were. In paradise. Paradising.

You took a deep breath.

"H-hey there. Uh, listen, I've-"

"There you are!! Darling, I've been looking all over for you!!"

You blink. Okay.

"Yeah, uh, do you think we could talk?  I feel like I should apologize-"

"Apologize? Whatever for?"

He rested both of his elbows on the counter like he was waiting for your deep, thought-provoking apology. You detected very high levels of mocking coming from his everything.

"Okay, I probably deserve this- uh Mr. Mettaton?"

"Just Mettaton is fine."

"Yeah, I probably deserve that, but really, I do owe you an apology. I had no reason to act the way that I did."

You give him a look that hopes show him just how much you mean it. The guilt had been eating up up since then. You think you spot what looks like disappointment for a brief moment before a slightly less spiteful smile splits his face.

"It's fine, I accept your apology- er" he reads your name tag aloud.

You nod.

"Thank you. I hope the rest of the time your here is more pleasant."

He stops your retreat with a hand on your elbow, startling the heck out of you. "Wait, is that all?"

You blink at him.

"Uh, I'm sorry?"

For once, you actually feel guilty for the startled expression on his face.

"It's ah... Um... Will you be staying for the show? Tonight?"

Your eyebrows knit in confusion.

"I work here."

"Yes but- Wait- the concert doesn't start until 7!"

"Well, yes, I work until Closing. Fifteen hours."

His eyes shoot open so wide, you wonder if it messed up his eyeliner.

"Fifteen hours?! How? I can't even go that long without recharging somewhere along the way! Do you not stop somewhere in the middle?"

The heat rises in your cheeks by how worked up he seems to be getting.

"U-uhm, yeah. I'll take about a 20 minute break for lunch somewhere but- ah.."

Wow he seems to be getting really worked up actually.  Horrified, even.

"That's Unbelievable!!  Where is the owner, I want to speak to him."

Your stomach drops. So that was his play. He was going to get you fired while under the guise of moral outrage.

He was looking over the tops of heads in the dining area until he (judging from the sudden determination in his eye) spotted the bald head of the owner. He had taken about a half-step before you snatched his arm in a panic. You saw a second of surprise before you were dragging him through the kitchen, heart racing.

You were now in the alley between the _Rat and Wheel_ and Mr. Haus hotel running your hand through your hair and collecting your thoughts.

By the time you had, indeed, wrangled all of the little bees flying around your head you had nicknamed "thoughts" into a neat little line, you realized you had still been holding Mettaton's hand. You dropped it.

"O-Okay, listen. I know I was really awful to you the other day but I- uh- I'm begging you. Don't go to my boss about it, alright? I have a little apartment I can barely afford and-"

Mettaton shushed you. Even going so far as to press a finger to your lips. You would have been irritated if not for the genuine confusion painted all across his face.

"Darling, I can assure you, I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about."

You blink at him. 

"Uhm-" as politely as possible, you removed his finger from your lips. "I-If you go in there and confront my boss about my hours, he'll probably fire me. either way, I need those hours."

He actually recoiled in shock.  Oddly, you felt the need to comfort  _him_.

"L-Listen, It's really not that bad." You awkwardly pat his arm. At his dry look, your hand retreats.

"Honey, look at my eyeliner.'

What?

You do as told and... wow its actually kind of incredible. His wings (the one you could see at least) was perfectly smooth and at just the right angle to make him look almost cat-like. Very sassy.

"Okay...? Um, it's really good...?"

"Yes. It is. I'm incredible with my make up, and that's why that foundation under your eyes isn't fooling me."

You flinch. Wow. Asshole move.

"Wow, okay, either way, it's not any of your business." You snap. His perfect eyebrows furrow.

"What do you- of course it's my business! Your boss is obviously mistreating you-"

WOW.

"You've only been here a couple days, what do you know? I work for an hourly wage, Mettaton! How much I work is how much I get paid! Not all of use get to make 'Demands'."

We'll, there goes your plan of apologizing.  You rake a hand through your hair.

"L-Look, just- I'm sorry for being rude the other day. Let's just leave this whole ordeal at that, okay?"

When you look back up, you finally realize how red in the face he was. Like the color of super-heated metal. Or the color of his bright red pupils currently locked on your face like angry laser sights. Good lord does he look pissed. He is even trembling slightly.

His mouth opens and he looks like he is about to raze you into powder but is interrupted by a cough. At the door.

You both turn in unison, and your stomach drops. When the silence drags on too long, you finally speak.

"U-uh, hi Sans."


	5. Staring Contest Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, last chapter was super dialog heavy, sorry. and so is this one. sorry-not-sorry.
> 
> THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR WONDERFUL COMMENTS
> 
> jesus seriously, everytime i get a new one i blush a little on the inside. heart blush.
> 
> More mettaton next chapter (you could even say... a metta-TON of him ;) ;) ;) )
> 
> http://otaku-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com/

You and Mettaton had just spent the last 8 minutes staring holes into each other from across a table.  Neither of you had touched your tea for fear of breaking eye contact.

You are simultaneously scared, furious, and thirsty.

Mr. Dreemurr looked eager to replace your cold cups of tea with warm ones, but the other goat monster in the room glared him down each time. Sans had tried to speak up once, and you and Mettaton had actually broken your staring contest to glare him down. No one since had interrupted.

You wished you could stare him back into a pay-phone, or what-ever-the-hell he evolved from.

Apparently, when Catty and Bratty had escorted Sans and gang to where they were pretty sure they saw you run out with Mettaton, the rest of the restaurant also got the earful of your 'conversation' with the tv star. Including your boss.

According to the reliable majority of people, however, only indistinct yelling was heard. You were thankful for that. You were _not,_ however, thankful for your suspension for the rest of the day. So there went the good chunk of money you _could_ have made today. 

To say you were upset would be like saying the Sun was a little toasty. Hence your staring contest with the TV idol.

 After about 2 more minutes of glaring you scoffed, chugged your glass of cold tea (to Mr.Dreemurr's horror), and stood, collecting your coat from the back your chair

"Im going home."

You hear fans whirring loudly, but you ignore them. No one stops you.

 

* * *

 

The walk back to your apartment doesn't do anything to cool your temper. It's cold and short, but the anger from a days worth of lost salary keeps you warm to the point where you don't bother to put on your coat. When you do arrive, however, you're surprised to see Sans leaning against the door. You still feel like being mad, but his calming aura is already cooling you down.

"How'd you beat me here?" You bark.

"i know a shortcut."

You sigh. Guilt is creeping up on you.

"I'm sorry my first impression with your friends was so awful." You're picking at your coat sleeve.

"eh, it's fine. they've all got big hearts, i'm sure they've already forgiven you." he shrugs. He looks like if you both stay outside much longer, he'll sit down in the hall.

"Still..." You heave a sigh and creep by him to unlock the door. "Wanna come in?"

At his nod you hold the door for him and follow him in, flipping on the lights. "I'd like to meet your friends again. Maybe under better circumstances, though."

He shrugs and immediately flops onto your couch, wrapping himself up in the comforter you never bothered to put back in the cubbard. "gotta say, with you knowing me, Pap  _and_ him, you've already... Met-a-ton of my friends."

That pulls a snort out of you. He beams.

"still though, pappy is gonna be heartbroken. i think he had a whole scenario set up for you two."

You rub the back of your neck guiltily. After you lock the door and kick your shoes off, you flop onto the couch next to him, inching your cold toes under the blanket. 

"Yeah, I didn't exactly know how to bring it up. I... Kinda got on his bad side as soon as we met. Believe it or not, that screaming match was supposed to be me apologizing..."

Sans raises an eyebrow...bone at you. You shrink uncomfortably.

"how long, exactly, have you guys known each other?"

"Three days. I met him on his second day at the restaurant. It uh, didn't go well."

Oddly, something like recognition flashes in his eyes... Eye-holes. "oh."

"Oh?"

He looks away. Ohhh you caught on to something juicy. "it's nothing."

You raise an eyebrow at that. "Mhm..?" you hum, nudging his kneecap (patella?) with a cold toe. He inches away and sticks you with a dry look. "yeah, it's nothing." Your toe retreats.

You give him an amused little laugh. "Fine, dork."

Moments later, you have Netflix set up on your laptop and the two of you are browsing through Star Trek episodes.  Last night had been spent slowly dragging Sans into Trekkie Hell with you. He would scoff every now and then but it seemed that human versions of made-up hypothetical science kinda really interested him. Which was cute.

You're starting to think a lot of things about Sans are cute.

You wait until the end of the show to speak to Sans (he would shush you whenever you tried to talk during). "So you're close with Mettaton?"

He shrugs at you, snuggling back under the comforter he has yet to share with you. "eh, me not so much.  Pap likes him, though." You nod. 

You rub the back of your cold neck with your cold hand. "I'm not... Wrong... am I?"

He blinks at you. You have trouble comprehending how a skeleton can do that. "what, that he's a bad person?"

"N-No! I don't think he's a bad person, just... I don't know, is he always this frustrating?"

"do you want me to tell you you're justified in yelling at him?"

"I-I mean, we yelled at  _each other_ , but-"

"you told me that was supposed to be your apology, right? what reason did you have to yell." He's already turned back to the screen, flipping to the next episode, but not clicking play.

Ouch.

"Well, yeah, but..." At a loss for words, you revert to flailing. Sans doesn't bother looking at you.

"if you wanna feel better, than yeah. he deserved that. he's a jerk." He clicks play.

You don't like that tone. He sounds disappointed. You kinda wanna cry.

Half-way through the opening scene, you grab a pillow from behind you and press it against his side before laying down and tossing some of the comforter over your prone form.

"I guess I'll try apologizing again tomorrow."

You feel him relax as he uses your shoulder as an armrest.

 

* * *

 

"Tomorrow" looks like it was going to be today instead. A text from your boss at about 11:20 informs you that "he's willing to forgive you" and that if you want any hours for the next week you had better be there in the next 10 minutes. Thank god you hadn't changed when you got home. Still, despite how close you live to work, its no 5 minute walk. The Stairs by themselves took you a few minutes and it was always a fight to get your door to lock properly.

"Sorry to cut our hangout short but uh, mind showing me that shortcut you mentioned?" you ask hopefully, frantically tying your shoes.

He shrugs. "sure."

"Ugh, you're the real MVP Sans." Not seeing the mischievous glint in his eye, you snatch your keys off the end table and followed him through the door, locking it behind you. You stash your keys in your front pocket and turn...

To face your boss. He looks just as surprised as you feel. 

Blinking twice, you look to your left and see filing cabinets. You look to your right and see a desk. Looking behind you, you realize that you're in the office. You kinda start to panic. The door behind you definitely is not the one to your apartment. You open it slightly to peek out and find Sans leaning against the wall there. His grin is notably more shit-eating than usual. You're sweating bullets as you look at him. He looks like he's about to burst out laughing. You hear a cough behind you.

Returning to the office, you try to ignore the fact that you've probably just been teleported.  It becomes much easier as your boss goes on to scold you.

Five minutes later and your outside the office with Sans beside you looking like he's about the bust the gut he doesn't have.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about what just happened."

 

 

 


	6. Mettaton Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another side of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR WAITING. You don't know this, but i live south east USA, and when it snows here, shit gets fucked. over the last week ive covered more shifts at work than i can count on my fingers and toes, and its been taking up a lot more of my time even before the snow came. I work two jobs and am as much of a wage slave as dear Reader.
> 
> YOURE ALL WONDERFUL AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR PATIENCE. I HOPE THE NEXT CHAPTERS ARE WORTH IT BECAUSE IM CERTIANLY NOT LOL.
> 
> now that this chapter is out, the next ones should be coming out a lot sooner too. snows over, and my schedule still has some leftover business, but i WILL have time to work on it. This chapter was also VERY important for setting the stage for future events.
> 
> I LOVE YOU, AND THERE IS AN IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE BOTTOM.
> 
> http://otaku-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com/

**2 Days Before.**

 

Alphys fidgets in Undyne's lap.

Asgore thinks about clearing his throat, but a look from his ex-wife stops him mid-phlegm.

Flowey ignores them all as he draw's violent pictures in Frisk's coloring book.

Even Papyrus is oddly quiet as pours marinara sauce into his pot-noodle.

The only noise in the room is the sound of the rubber ball relentlessly pounding into the roof of the trailer above a certain mechanical superstar. His face is distinctly pensive. the silence is only broken when Frisk finally rises from where they were playing Animal Crossing on the floor and gently lays a hand on Mettaton's throwing arm. He blinks.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

Frisk frowns at him.

"Ah, It's nothing to worry about. I just had a wonderful day at work-"

The entire trailer sighs in unison.

"Wh-"

"W-We all thought y-you were mad!!"

"What? Why would I be mad?""

"Because you like, straight-up walked in and started throwing that dumb stress ball around!!"

"And that made you worry?"

"TCH! No wonf wash worrief." Flowey scoffed from the floor with a red crayon hanging out of his mouth. At the glare from his mother, he hurriedly returned to drawing blood spatters.

"Actually, dear, we _are_ fairly worried. You've been awfully quiet since you got back."

"Oh! No, really, I just had a very interesting encounter at work! I guess I was... er.... Daydreaming?"

Alphys spared a look to Sans, who shrugged.

"Oh, Alphys, you would have loved it! It-It was so dramatic! Reminded me of one of your shows- er... about some girl who was like... Very grumpy? And angry? She obviously had a thing for the main character but that's besides the point-"

"W-wait, you mean one of those tsundere romances? This person was acting tsundere?" Undyne, for one, looked like she was about to toss Alphys from her lap with the force of her concealed laughter.

"Er, I suppose? Anyway, it was all so very dramatic! You could feel the tension in the air, the whole restaurant looking on in rapture- Oh, I get chills just thinking of it! I haven't had such a rush since I tried to kill you on live television, Frisk!"

Silence.

"Oh come on now, who here  _hasn't_  tried to kill them at one point or another?"

Alphys was the only one to raise her hand.

And Sans was the only one close enough to hear Mettaton whisper "... I can't wait to see them again."

 

* * *

 

Smoke break. This is what you  _really_ needed.  Burgerpants (you really need to ask him about that nickname) grudgingly agreed to be host for the next few minutes while you tried to suck down as many cigarettes as you could before the hoard came.

And by hoard, you mean the massive number of people who confirmed that they would be coming to Mettaton's show tonight on the Rat and Wheel's Facebook page (that you managed).  It was such a large number that fire safety regulations would only allow about half of them in the building at a time. Your boss had you set up TV's and cameras so that people could stand outside in the parking lot and be able to watch. Which was fun for you. At least Sans had helped with that somewhat by teleporting the Tv's to you. which was honestly so trippy to watch. He would simply walk behind something, and when he walked back out, he was lugging one of the TV's.

He really fucked you up when he disappeared behind a telephone pole like a cartoon character.

Anyway, Sans ended up sticking around for most of your shift.  He was there for a good 3 hours before he had to leave for work. In the city. 6 hours away. You decided you'd have to convince him to take you out of country some time.

"jesus, have you ever even breathed air?"

You glance to the door and out walks the exact skeleton you had been pondering. You take an extra long drag of your cigarette just to spite him. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"eh, i'm on break."

"How long?"

"10 minutes." you shake your head at him.

"You could be the ultimate criminal- you would never be caught."

Somehow, despite all odds, he raises an eyebrow at you. "You saying you wanna be my partner in crime?"

He winks. You scoff. 

"No, but I might need your help escaping today. Never thought I'd miss running into Mr. MTT every five seconds... But now every time I see him, he looks ready to tear my head off..."

Sans deadpans. "what happened to apologizing? again?"

"I mean... yeah, I will... but does it make me a bad person if I'm honestly just terrified? Because I am."

He rolls his creepy little pinprick eyes.

"Oh, come on, Sans, don't give me that."  you plead, dramatically laying your entire weight on him. He grunts under the pressure. "I'm fragile and I care too much!! Those are my two defining character traits!"

"oh my god- get off. you're literally crushing me."

You giggle and back off. He brushes a bead of bone sweat off his forehead and glares at you.

"Seriously though I... I could probably use some help, Sans."

He sticks you with a look. "what could you possibly need my help for?"

"I don't know- Referee? Anytime we're in a room together, it seems like we have to argue about something... You're his friend- you're  _my_ friend... just... Keep us on track? I don't like having enemies."

His glare dissipates at the mention of 'friend' and he concedes with a sigh. "alright... fine. but you better make it work this time, alright?"

"I'm going to try, Sans, but  _god_ that guy must hate me..." You huff. You're already pulling out another cigarette.

"trust me kid, he doesn't hate you." 

Your brows knit together. "What? How would you know?"

"just trust me, kid."

You give him your hardest side-eye, and bone sweat beads on his skull. "You know something." Panic creeps into his expression.

"well, would you look at that, my breaks up. see you- eUF-"

Before Sans could creep through the door and take a hop, skip, and a jump through time and space, you swept down and hooked your arms around his waist. A laugh escapes him before he earnestly tries to escape your grip.

"You know something! C'mon, man, you can't just leave me in the dark!"

"kid- i swear to  _god_ I will teleport you to the moon if i have to-"

You knew he was bluffing. He was laughing. Just to be sure, however, you turned the both of you around to plant yourself between him and any object he might disappear behind.

"Sans, please! This could be the breakthrough I need!  And-Woah, hey, you're really light."

"it's not polite to talk about a lady's figure."

"No, seriously, you're  _really_ light. I could probably pick you up."

He glares at you over his shoulder. "if you do that I really  _will_ teleport you to the moon. in your _sleep_."

With your faces being so close, he got quite an eyeful of your mischievous smile and, for reasons you won't ponder, his face goes bright blue.

"Tell me what you know."

For his credit, he looked like he desperately wanted to- even giving a few false starts. Alas, with no ground-breaking revelations being forthcoming, you hoisted the skeleton up with a valiant heave. You were honestly kind of amazed as to how light he was.

Then you remembered what vertigo was.

You managed to catch yourself before you fell backwards onto the pavement, and instead caused the both of you to fall forward towards the wall. When you had your footing again, you worried you might actually have crossed a line here. It was kind of worrying how quickly you were warming up to the stout little skeleton. You've never been more comfortable with anyone this quickly in your life. Luckily, before your anxiety could catch up to you, you realized he was laughing Pretty dang hard for someone who almost died. Assessing your position, you burst into laughter as well, what with the way your hands braced on either side of his head, your front pressed against his back and your knees knocking together. You got maybe a full breath in before you burst into laughter right beside him. You both were laughing so hard, you hadn't even heard the back door open.

You wouldn't have even noticed the robot standing there in his frilly pink MTT-Brand apron if he hadn't interrupted your laughter with a sharp, metallic cough.

And so, yeah, you and Sans were both quite startled to see Mettaton there, hoisting up three garbage bags with one arm and with a sour expression aimed at the both of you. Moreso you. When he finally broke eye-contact, he walked past the both of you in complete silence, hoisted the dumpster lid up with one noodle arm and threw the bags in with the other.  The return trip felt like it lasted centuries.

When he made it back to the door he, instead of walking in like you had prayed with every molecule in your body that he would, stood there holding it open. Obviously waiting.

Feeling like making any noise in this moment would result in an utter _reaming_ , you silently replaced Sans on the ground and obediently made your way through the door. A glance back showed he was obviously as blue in the face as you were red.

Mettaton closed the door behind you and, with Sans having teleported at some point between this side of the door frame and the other, you found yourself alone with Mr. MTT himself.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, so what im about to say next is in reference to some PM's ive gotten about this story, not any of the comments. Just so you know, i already have everything that happens in this story planned out. Like i know exactly whats going to happen, and when. and i could even give like an estimate on how many chapters this will have.
> 
> so like, if you have suggestions and all, thats cool, but there is a 0% chance its going to show up in the story unless i already had it planned that way.
> 
> i love you guys, youre all wonderful and i love getting comments from you guys seriously, i check my phone several times a day just to see if i get one more comment, its wonderful.
> 
> also, if that came out harsh, i definately didn't mean it to. i love getting your theories and stuff, i just don't want anyone to be confused as to where this is going, im not taking suggestions.


	7. Prep Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay ugh jesus christ. so this chapter was accidentally deleted and then rewritten and i somehow managed to fine a bit of it in my backups but
> 
> ughhhh bury me in hell
> 
> http://otaku-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com/

Your left hand is tightly fisted in his hair. He groans, probably because your ruining his meticulously done hair, but you don't care because what his mouth is doing to your collar bone has you a little distracted right now. You only lax your grip when he gives a sharp pinch to the side of your ass- which is quite a feat considering that youre sitting down.

And that Mettaton is on your lap.

You give a short laugh and he pulls back with stars in his eyes. You're a little thrown off by his gaze so you focus on the bruise surely blossoming on your skin and, when he roughly smashes your lips back together, you're pretty sure hes trying to leave one there too... And maybe he's a little too rough because, before you know it, the make-up chair you're in is tilting precariously backwards and right as you're about to shout, you're on the floor.

Mettaton's hand protected your head from connecting with the floor. Looking down at you, he looks disheveled, flushed, gorgeous, and slightly panicked from the fall. His lipstick is smeared and you're sure a large portion of it ended up on your own lips. He's the definition of a "Hot Mess". When he starts laughing you can't help but join in, gasping from the force of your giggles. He hold's your face in both of his hands and proceeds to cover your face in bright, neon pink kiss marks. When he pulls back, you're actually crying from laughter. Looking into the cute little pixelated heart of his iris, you can't help but wonder...

How the hell did you get here?

 

* * *

 

Next time you're alone with Sans, you're pretty sure you're going to strangle him. Preferably in public. You want the world to know your rage. As it were, you were not in public, surrounded by people. You were in the kitchen. With Mettaton. Juuuust the two of you.

Needless to say, you're panicking.

Should you go ahead and apologize? Should you wait until you have Sans in the room to referee? Luckily, Mr. MTT is too busy pretending you're not there as he washes his hands to notice your internal struggle. Or your very visible external sweating. You briefly consider walking back outside and finishing the cigarette still in your hand.

"You shouldn't do that."

You blink. Was that Mettaton? Did he speak just now or was it your imagination?

"Smoking. You shouldn't do that."

Ok, yeah, no one could sound _that_ pretentious and aloof while covered in trash juice besides Mr. MTT himself. You scrunch up your nose and stub out your cigarette on the bottom of your shoe.

"I don't want to argue with you." you say much more coldly than you mean to. To Mettaton's credit, he flinched.

You also flinched.

"L-listen, uh, Mettaton-"

"Listen, I-"

You had both spoken at the same time. He's turned towards you now, and you clear your throat. "Sorry."

"No, darling, I'm sorry. I-" You're not sure, but you're pretty sure all those gestures he's making are _not_ sign language.

At your soft laugh, he gives a weak smile.

"We really need to stop getting off on the wrong foot."

He gave a soft giggle behind his hand before he looks away.

"Most likely."

You were just waiting for this to go bad. As if diffusing a bomb, you carefully retied your bow tie. You really don't wanna fuck this up. Even though he hadn't said anything to you, you get the feeling that your budding friendship with Sans depends on _not_ completely alienating the superstar. It's kind of a lot of pressure.

Releasing a breath you didn't realize you were holding, you tossed your cigarette butt in the trash and began washing your hands. You had hoped you could relieve some of the pent up stress from your interactions with Mettaton to Sans but... The way he'd immediately go on the defensive... You understand that they've likely known each other a lot longer than Sans had known you, but... You hadn't realized how much trust you'd put into the short skeleton until now. Blinking, you began to realize exactly _how much_ trust you'd put into Mr. Lazybones in the short two days you'd known him (a fact that, itself was a little frightening). Frantically, you tried to make a list of things you WOULDN'T tell the skeleton, and were coming up terrifyingly empty-handed.

This isn't good. You-You know what happened last time you put this much trust into someone-they turned around and... no... No! You need to stop closing yourself off from people. You _like_ Sans. You like him more than most people you've met since moving here, and many even before then. Even before the monsters were freed. It's easy for you to imagine Sans and his (great) brother becoming fixtures in your life, and you feel like you'd be quite happy with that sort of arrangement. It's decided. You're not going to just disappear from him because of your paranoia. What had happened before _had_ hurt. It had _killed_ you, but you've honestly not felt as calm and relaxed as you had doing the dishes and watching Netflix with Sans- and his brother's human-repairing antics had warmed your heart. You're not ready to give up that kind of peace.

With a rush of determination, you dry off your hands and walk back to the dining room to prepare for show-time. You're going to make it work out with Mettaton. If not only to ease your conscience, but to make it work with Sans.

... That sounded like a line from some awful love-triangle romance novel. You also decide it would likely be good for your mental health to fine someone you _could_ vent your frustrations about Mettaton to. ( We all remember what happened _last_ time you let it bubble over...)

But to who?

 

* * *

 

"You girls absolutely HAVE to help me!"

From the way stars sparkled in the two monsters' eyes, Mettaton was almost certain that they hadn't even heard him. 

"Wait, like, what?" Bratty finally spoke after a harsh shake to the shoulders from Mettaton.

"Listen, you girls know the uh... the one person who works here- um..." The superstar was suddenly horrified to realize he'd forgotten your name. 

The two girls shared a look. Catty, knowing sign language, was certain that the gestures that Mettaton was currently making were, as a matter of fact, not.

"You know, uh... they're all:  _'Oh, I'm going to be all sassy at you even though I just met you. And then I'm going to pretend to be all meek and stuff but then I'll yell at you because you pointed out the fact that I'm under-appreciated!! '_   Also, it should be mentioned, they have been described as... uh... 'Tslunder' or something. By other people."

Catty and Bratty shared a look. 

"Oh, Come on! That was a perfect impression of them, you  _have_ to know who I'm talking about!!"

"Wait- uh, are you talking about the shift leader?"

Mettaton goes rigid. 

"Burgerpants?! Is that YOU?! UGH, I don't want to hear it- WHAT ARE YOU LEANING ON THE COUNTER FOR?!!"

Burgerpants immediately lifted his elbows from the counter, unlit cigarette falling from his mouth.

"Get back to work you lazy turd! Go clean the bathrooms! NOW. GO GO GO!"

"W-Wait, I think I know who you mean!!"

Mettaton squints, still pointing bathroomward.

"Y-yeah, they're all: ' _BP, you cant make doodles on the cheesecake with icing. It has to be precisely 4 stripes in a zig-zag pattern; corners at 30 and 330 degrees!!_ "

Catty gasps. "OHHH YEAH!! LOL, and they're like, " _Like, Well GOSH, Catty, you can't eat the food out of the trash! I have to, like, keep track of it for the... uh... bail...report? And, like, you cant put sequins on the burgers for some reason I guess we're not fancy enough or something lol.'"_

"Okay! Okay! That sounds _very much_ like them- now do you know who I mean or not?!"

All three said your name in unison and the superstar visibly sagged in relief. " _Thank_ you!! Now, listen closely girls." 'Girls' included Burgerpants since he had migrated closer at some point. "That angry little human has been absolutely driving me _crazy_  since our first meeting-"

"Oh, is that why your jaw, like,  _literally_ dropped the first time they yelled at you?"

"Omg, Catty. Or, like, why your cooling system broke down the  _second_ time they yelled at you?"

"OH and when it, like, broke down _again_ during your weird staring contest thing?"

Mettaton's face flushed with heat. "...You two weren't even there for the last one."

"We were, like, hiding under the table the whole time LOL."

The superstar blinked. "Er, well, anyways-" A devious smirk overtook his features. "I need your help."

His two biggest fans and his worst employee leaned in in rapture.

" _I have a plan_."


	8. Show Time!! (pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, It's show time all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so a little behind schedule due to my chapter-deleting fiasco, but this mother-hecker is slowly chugging along anyway. EXTRA LONG CHAPTER YAY
> 
> theres more important stuff in the bottom note but, like, if you guys wanna check me out on tumblr im otaku-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com and i dont post a lot of stuff on there but i have a little bit of my art, and if you have any questions abt the story you can get me there. WUV U
> 
> http://otaku-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com/

 

The plan wasn't going as... uh... planned. Catty and Bratty hadn't been able to coax a single statement out of you.

"So what do you think Mettaton's sign is?  Probably one compatible with yours, right? Hahaha.... Right?"

"Like, what's your opinion of Mettaton's color scheme?  In about 400 to 450 words?"

"What is your _explicit_ opinion about Mettaton in general?"

It didn't help that the two girls constantly seemed to be looking at... no... _reading_   something on their hands. You had absolutely no idea what was going on.

There you were, minding your own business on your way to the mop bucket when, out of nowhere, the two monster girls practically swept you off your feet and ushered you to the dining room. They maneuvered you into a seemingly innocent yet oddly specific spot next to one of the fancy table-clothed tables, and began grilling you about their idol. You were entirely dumbfounded and speechless. Literally.  Every one of their oddly Mettaton-specific questions was met with a "Yeah, I guess.", "Uhm, I don't know?" or a "I honestly have no idea." and similar syllabicly-starved answers. It was starting to get to you.

All you wanted to do was enjoy your 20-minute lunch break by mopping the entire restaurant. Was that too much to ask?

Unknowingly to you, the two monster girls' (and the one monster  _guy_ hiding under the table just a few feet from your non-slip shoes) savior came in the form of one teenage chain-smoking cat. Named Burgerpants.

"Okay, so like, how many hours a day do you spend watching MTT brand shows? This ones multiple choice so-"

"Wait, what? What are you guys talking about? I don't even have a tv-"

The metallic gasp that came from under the table just to your left was conveniently hidden under some horrible hybrid of a smokers cough and the sound of a cat passing a hairball. It  _may_ have been a laugh.

"Oh, man, are you guys talking about his shows? Jeez..." He stubbed out an unlit cigarette on his shoe. You scrunch up your nose at the waste. "That guy watches more of his own than probably anyone else.  Seriously, I once walked in on him marathoning his own romance/drama in his PJ's."

"Aren't you supposed to be watching the front?" You squint at him. He shrugs.

"Finished early."

"What? You can't 'Finish early'-- You're supposed to watch for people coming in!"

"Yeah, and I finished up early."

"No, BP, you literally can't- I- Wait, how did you manage to just walk in on something like that?!" A haunted grin splits his face.

"He used to call me up to unclog the toilet in his personal room at the hotel. Even though there's no reason to have one there, he kept it because of 'human customs'."

You're certain that the look you're giving him does nothing to make you look smarter.

"So, anyway, he'd call me up all the time and then just send me back down.  I think he just liked having me walk around the hotel with that weird 'plunger' thing in my hand." 

"Seriously? And one time he called you up while in his pj's?"

You scoff. How mean.

The two of you ended up talking about Mettaton a lot longer than expected. This was honestly probably the longest conversation you've held with him before. Jeez, it might be the longest you'd held with any of your coworkers. The thought was a little upsetting but whatever, you were usually a little too busy working yourself to death for that pay raise you're _sure_ is just around the corner. At some point you started talking about some of the things about Mettaton you'd been meaning to get off your chest. Oh, man, it was so good to have someone to talk to about this sort of thing.

Sure, you felt a little guilty essentially 'talking shit' about the same person you were planning on apologizing to at some point tonight, but it just felt so _good_ to have someone actually hear _your_ side of the story. You told him about moving Mettaton's equipment (the bruise was STILL there), and about your dumb staring contest earlier that day. At some point during this, Catty and Bratty had backed off. You hadn't noticed, too enthralled in the condemning tales you were hearing and telling. You were so into it, you didn't even bother to investigate why Burgerpants would sometimes yelp in the middle of saying something _particularly_ damning of Mettaton, almost as if in pain...

 

* * *

 

Well this was utterly humiliating and absolutely awful in every way.  _Definitely_ not a part of the plan.

So yes, he was hiding under the table and  _yes_ he was kind of eavesdropping in hopes of getting a better idea how you saw him. What could he say? He really wanted to get a better read on you. Even Mr. Mettaton himself could only handle so much dramatic tension.

But  _this_ was not what he had in mind. To be fair, Burgerpants was getting more out of you in the last four minutes than Catty and Bratty's  _combined_  efforts had in  _ten;_ but these were all things he really didn't want to hear. And BP didn't seem to be getting the message that electric shock to the ankle means "DON'T TELL THEM ABOUT MY "Diesel only" BOOTY SHORTS!!!".

But the two of you kept talking. BP would say something embarrassing and you would laugh softly and mention something similar about Mettaton himself that would immediately leave a little nick in his ego... And you two would go on and on and on and on. It was down-right depressing. And y'know the worst part? The part that _really_ brought Mettaton down?

Your laugh. When he was working in the kitchen, using one hand to prepare 200 fish fillets while simultaneously using the other to cut and plate 200 slices of cheesecake, he never heard that laugh.  Not when he heard you chatting with your coworkers, and you gave a soft, short little huff; or when some older human said some cheesy line and you gave a practiced "ha ha ha."

Just now, he thinks he heard your real laugh for the first time. And it was breathtaking.

And it's only because you're laughing _at him_.

Mettaton isn't known for taking criticism well, but he was trying to change that right now. Under a table littered with gum and with a notebook in his hand, he was writing down every criticism that he heard because, even if it's not what he want's to hear, it's what this whole charade was to find out.

Your Opinion.

"There's just... I gotta be honest with you, BP, that's all kinda superficial, right? I mean, yeah, chewing gum with his mouth open is _unforgivable_ , but... There's just one thing that really gets to me..."

"Yeah?"

You take a deep breath and let it go. "Earlier today, when me and Mettaton argued, he said something... Really weird.  At first, I thought he was making up an excuse to get me fired, but... How do I say this?" You scrub the back of your neck in thought. Unknowingly to you, Mettaton scooted just a little bit closer to hear you. He'd already discovered that this table was a little wobbly, so this position was slightly more precarious to his cover. "He was...  _weirdly_ upset when he heard about my hours. Sorry, I didn't mean to make this real all of the sudden, but it's been bothering me.  What was work like underground? --If you don't mind me asking!" You added quickly.

Burgerpants shrugged, pretending to light up cigarette. "Very different. I know I'm kinda hard on the guy, put he paid a decent hourly and, back then, there were regularly scheduled breaks all the time. The dude even made sure to have a a break during his fight with  _Frisk."_

"...Really? How... How would you compare it to up here?"

"Well, first of all, worker's rights were a lot different down there. Better. Poverty wasn't a big issue at all, like it is up here. Gonna be honest, coming up here was kind of a... shock."

Mettaton actually risked lifting up the table skirt just to get a look at your face. You looked pensive and nervous. You had your arms crossed and were looking intently at nothing. 

That look alone had him scribbling down countless notes in his little pink journal.

 

* * *

 

Papyrus was  _really_ growing on you. Ever since your little misadventure with Ms. Babydoll and his handy-dandy human repair kit, you had the sneaking suspicion that the skeleton would probably bore his own little soft spot in your heart.

Kind of like how he was slowly but surely boring his thumbs into that little cramp you'd had in your shoulder for the last hour.

As you expected, the rest of Sans'/Mettaton's friends showed up extra early to the show. It was currently 5:00 pm (two hours until the show) and much earlier than you expected to see them, but still no huge surprise.  With the short skeleton as your support, you meekly apologized to the group. To say you were forgiven would be the understatement of the century. Mr. Dreemurr immediately set off to the kitchen to prepare cups of tea for the group, and Papyrus initiated a group high-five. In your attempt to participate iin the communal high-fiving, a small knot in your shoulder suddenly turned into a holy  _fucking cramp, shit_ ; your resulting cry of pain and pathetic attempt to rub the pain away being how the XXL skeleton brother came to be your masseur. The firm pressure in your shoulder felt so good that you were only half processing what everyone was asking you. 

You were so out of it that, when Toriel ushered Sans to sit next to you (oddly insistently), you had already forgotten about your plan to strangle him for abandoning you with Mr. MTT. In fact, the only thing you could keep your focus on was trying not to fall asleep. It was taking more and more brain power every second.

You hadn't even realized you _had_ dozed off until a cold, hard finger was gently pushing your chin up and closing your mouth. "mMah..?"

"woah, kid, did you really just fall asleep?" Sans looked like he was about to burst into laughter.

Before you could reply, you body gave an involuntary pleasurable shiver. Apparently, in the short time you had dozed off, it seems that Papyrus had migrated from your left shoulder all the way down your back, down your legs, made it back up to your arms, and currently had your shoe off and was working out kinks in your feet that you hadn't even known you had. From the intense pleasure you were feeling, it must have been building up for months. It was no wonder you fell asleep, you don't think you've been this relaxed since you were a child.

For the second time in as many minutes, you hadn't realized you had closed your eyes. When you opened them again, Sans' face was lightly dusted in blue. He quickly averted his gaze. 

At your insistent (and somewhat drowsy) look, he only seemed to fluster more.

"Whaft time ish it?" you slurred.

"5:40." He replied.

You nearly kicked Papyrus in your scramble to get up. 

"Oh my God!  People are going to be showing up any minute now- I've still got to set up the dance floor- and re-flower the tables- and _mop-_ \- P-Papyrus, I really need my foot back-"

Sans' friend group apparently had all stayed at the table with you, and were now watching you frantically straighten your uniform and text your coworkers to make sure they were aware of the duties to be performed before 6:00.  You were too busy texting Burgerpants to make sure he knew to take the trash out (Yes all the trash. Into the dumpster. No, Catty and Bratty can't sell it in the alley. That's a crime here.) to notice the rest of the group tense (except Papyrus, who was waving). 

" _Daaaarling~!!"_

You turned to Mettaton with your phone in one hand, the other fixing your hair, no shoe one one foot and the other being carefully tied by (The Great) Papyrus, and with a big ol' dumbfounded expression on your face.

You were a mess.

"M-Mettaton! Ah-"

"Listen, darling, we have to talk-"

"Y-Yes we do-" you interrupted. "But later. Listen we- ah, I owe you an apology. A lot of apologies- but it'll have to come later, okay? Could I find you after your show?" You carefully picked up your other foot so that Papyrus could put your other shoe back on.

"Actually," Oh no, you don't have time for this. "I have a better idea!"

You open your mouth to insist it be later, but he interrupts  _you_ this time.

"A date."

 

 


	9. Show Time!! (pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: Dating Start!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay babies, this is where shit gets real!!! ACTION! DRAMA! BLOODSHED!
> 
> thank you all SO MUCH for being patient with me during my crazy work schedule. one of my coworkers had a baby and another fell for a scam and had to be fired so i ended up having to take over a ton of shifts (in case you werent there when i posted the little summary of my work week.). Long story short i had a 20 hour shift followed by 2 fifteen hour shifts all-the-while with a cold and icy roads. 
> 
> it sUCKED.
> 
> so again, thank you all extra super much for being patient, and for all your super nice comments. like, seirously, that shit is probably like 45% of the reason i made it through this week. youre all wonderful
> 
> http://otaku-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com/

It's 5:45. You still can't think of what to say.

Papyrus is holding your shoelaces mid-knot. Alphys and Undyne had been in the process of feeding each other spoonfuls of some creamy treat they had ordered, but now just wait frozen for your reaction with spoons hovering in front of their faces.

You've been quiet for so long, he's actually starting to look nervous. 

He opens his mouth to speak and-

" _what..?"_

He blinks. Was that you? Did you speak just now or was it his imagination?

" _What_ are you  _talking_ about?" 

Ok, yeah, no one could sound _that_  angry and indignant with one of your shoes off and drool smeared on your face. He scrunches up his (perfect) nose scoffs at your ungratefulness.

"Well- I didn't mean it like  _that_ , obviously!" he huffs he says, sounding more exasperated than he'd meant to.

He flinches.

You squint at him.

"L-Look, darling, all I meant is- er, May I?" He has his hand out towards you, obviously asking for your own. A small amount of heat rises to your face and you comply. Reluctantly.

You lay your hand in his and he quickly encapsulates it in his own.

"I simply meant, well, perhaps we could spend a bit of time with each other- get to know each other better? Try and resolve this conflict between us?"

You feel more heat rise to your face. He sounds sincere. And the look he's giving you seems honest.

Then again, he is an actor (among other things).

As confidently as you can, you turn back to the group. 

Alphys and Undyne quickly attempt to hide the thumbs-up gestures they had been giving to Mettaton. Guiltily, they shrug and give you the same gesture. Asgore was holding his hands up in a "leave me out of this!"-type gesture, and Papyrus... well, the way he was looking between the two of you with stars in his eyes, god only knows what he was thinking.

Toriel, oddly, was looking at Sans. Who was looking at his lap.

At your clearing of your throat, he looked up. You had thought you had caught a glimpse of a frown pulling down his features, but when his eyes met yours, it was all easy smiles. Or maybe fake smiles. You decided you were going to make an effort to decipher his expressions in the future.

In the present, however, you gestured Mettaton with your eyes, begging for his opinion.

As helpful as ever, he shrugs and enjoys watching you sweat.

You turn back around and, okay, 3 apparent yes', and 3 N/A's. 

Mettaton looks surprisingly anxious. He's definitely having trouble holding your gaze and you think if his hands could shake, they would.

Well, N/A's, prepare to forever hold your peace.

"Yes."

A sigh sweeps through the group behind you. 

"Oh, Thank you, Darling!! I  _Absolutely_ assure you, you won't be disappointed!! Seven. Tonight. I'll pick you up my dear- See you  _so_ soon!"

Before you could even get a word out, he wraps you in a crushing hug and scampers off.

What had you just gotten yourself into?

 

* * *

 

It was only minutes after Mettaton had run off that you realized his mistake.

How are you supposed to have your "date" at seven when his  _show_ was at seven?

As people were quickly trickling into your little workplace, you spent as much time as you could between taking care of your duties looking for the metal man. You'd gone back to Toriel and Co.'s table (with one particular skeleton mysteriously absent) and told them all to keep an eye out for the star. Show time was fastly approaching and, despite the fact that you were sure Mr. Mtt had worked out the mistake by now, you still felt you should let him know. To reschedule? To rub in his mistake? You weren't sure. There might have been a sense of guilt hidden in there, but you were reluctant to acknowledge it. At about 6:40 you  _finally_ found your boss, who had been notably scarce since the crowd had started trickling in.

"Uh, e-excuse me- sir? Have you seen Mettaton around?"

He set down his mug of coffee before turning to you, coffee still dripping from his mustache.

"What? What on earth do you need him for? You're not going to start more trouble, are you? "

You resist the automatic urge to say it had been  _Mettaton_ 's fault the last time.

"No, sir, he asked me on a-uh , for some help earlier at seven. I don't think he realized that was when his show started and-"

"What?! Listen, kid, if that man said he needed your help, you better  _do what he says!_ Mr. Mettaton  _knows_ what he's doing! Now, if he needs you at seven, you better stop  _standing around_ and get over to him! You should have been there ten minutes ago!  _Go!_ You're already trying my patience with this." 

Suddenly overwhelmed by all of his negative energy, you hastily agree and rush out of the conversation, only turning back when he shouts back to you " _LOOK IN HIS DRESSING ROOM!_ ".

Well. Duh.

If you had just thought of that a minute earlier, you could have saved yourself a scolding.

Shaking your head, you step through the kitchen and leave out the dumpster doors. Parked around back was the headache-inducing neon pink band bus that Mettaton  _had_ been living in during his stay.  You still feel surges of embarrassment whenever you think back to  _that_ particular misunderstanding. To think it was just the other day was still an odd thought to process; seeing as to how certain relationships had progressed since then.  

You were  _quite_ aware of your tendency to push people away. As a matter of fact, it was  _very_ intentional. Despite that, however, for reasons that were uncomfortable to ponder, you're certain you wouldn't be okay with Sans disappearing any time soon. You're reluctant to consider and you absolutely  _refuse_ to dissect the notion. For one, you have almost nothing to base these feelings on. You've known him a disturbing total of 3 days and you're ashamed of how attached you are becoming to the short skeleton and his brother. While Sans had a wonderfully calming aura and an apparent empathy for your anxiety, his brother's boundless energy and positivity is also something you're coming to value greatly.

Honestly, you're worried about how easily the two skeleton brothers managed to get through to you.

Oh, and then there's Mettaton.

Despite your previous- ahem- altercations, you... well... Actually, you still find him kind of irritating. Sure, you're original reasons for disliking him have since been debunked, but since the two of you had actually started speaking on a day-to-day basis, you still don't care much for his overbearing and flamboyant personality. He's just not the type of person you tend to gravitate to. He's loud, flashy, and has an ego as tall as those legs.

Regardless, however, you can't bring yourself to dislike him on a personal level. Yeah, he's not your "type", but you can't give him a bad wrap just for that.  And, at least it seems to be, you both want to make this work.

Your fist hovers over the door of the bus, poised to knock. Your brows furrow.

You're being too hard on him.

Your fist lowers.

The two of you are vastly different but... What's that supposed to mean? He's full of energy and confidence; you're quiet and reserved, but what about that is to say the two of you can't be friends?  Yes, you both seemed to repel each other like magnets, but... you cant deny that you get a certain thrill every time the two of you interact. His high-energy presence always seems to bring out some excitable part of you. Thinking back to your first " _introduction"_  , you can't remember the last time you'd projected that much  _sass_. Maybe the _Hardcore-Sarcastic-Bitch-You-Always-Kinda-Wished-You-Were_ did live somewhere did live somewhere inside you.

And they only seemed to come out around Mettaton.

Oh, and speak of the devil and his bedazzled ass shall come. Your eyes flick to a flash of pink in the bus window just in time to see Mettaton duck out of sight. You feel your face heat up as you realize what you must have looked like, standing in front of his door looking all indecisive and moody. After a moment of clatter from inside, the bus door flies open with the grace of 20 rusted pipes falling down stairs and Mettaton reveals himself with a flourish.

And  _gosh_ does he look good. You can't breath.

You blame it on the fact that he's hugging you so tight.

" _Darling!_ Oh, my darling, I told you I'd pick you up!" He releases you and holds you at arm length, looking you up and down. You're too nervous under his scrutiny to speak.

He makes a face at your disheveled clothes. You try not to be offended. 

"Hm. Oh well, you can wear something of mine. Oh-dear, your _hair_!"

Ok, your hair is where you're drawing the line.

"Met- _Mettaton-_  listen, I'm just dropping by to make sure you realized the... uh... the thing."

He makes _another_ face at you before dragging you into his dressing room/home. 

"Sweetie, you'll have to be more specific." He says before urgently ushering you to his make-up chair, fully equipped with that mirror that had light-bulbs surrounding it and a big pink heart drawn in lipstick over the glass like the ones you see in movies. Something about the image of Mettaton encircling his own reflection with a heart makes you scoff. He raises his head from where he had been digging around in his chest of costumes behind you.

"The- uh- the  _meet-up._ It's 7:00, Mettaton. Your show is going to start at the same time."

He walks back up to you and holds different outfits over you to inspect them in the mirror. The way he's looking at you like you're some daft puppy for mentioning the time mix-up has you feeling anxious.

"And?" He replies. Holding a bright yellow sequin dress over you before shaking his head disapprovingly and trying the more masculine blue tuxedo in his other hand. A third hand appears from somewhere and appears to be holding bright pink, shirtless lederhosen.

 You get the sinking suspicion you know whats going on now. You open your mouth to tentatively inquire before he lets out the most well restrained shriek you've ever heard. 

"No! We're running out of time- ah-" He runs his eye quickly over your work vest, white shirt and bowtie before making an unhappy noise and unwinding the bright pink scarf from around his neck and wrapping it stylishly around your own. You're desperately trying to get a word in but hes turning you this way and that as he does your hair and make-up with lightening speed and begins to usher you out of the bus.

"Now, don't worry, I know it's not my  _best_ work, but the stage lights will keep everyone's attention off the little flaws- and-"

Oh god. You were right.

"M-Mettaton-"

"Yes? OH! Lord, darling, those socks look _ridiculous!_   _BURGERPANTS!_   _Yes_ you, you little weasel- take your shoes off!  _Of course I'm being serious! NOW!"_

By now, He'd actually managed to drag you backstage and you could hear your boss's voice announcing to the crowd that the show was soon to begin. Mettaton's forced you down into a chair off to the side as he orders BP to take his socks off and you can actually _see_ the curtain from here. There is absolutely _no way_ you are getting on that stage.  A little part of you is telling you that you should have seen this coming. Another part of you is telling you to bolt before someone can drag you up there.

The majority part of you, however, is telling you to be _pissed._  You yank Mettaton down to eye level by his dark pink tie as soon as he's leaning down to take off your shoes.

"I am  _not_ going up there!"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd also like to point out that the last 6 chapters all took place in the same day LOL


	10. Show Time!!! (Pt. 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright cool!! getting back into the swing of things again!  
> I'm back to normal hours at work and i should be back to cranking these babies out now. The first few chapters of this fic, i know, have a weird variation in lenght chapter-to-chapter, but i'm settling down to more of a 2000 words per chapter deal to hopefully improve flow etc etc. I also might go back and add a little more to some of the shorter chapters 1. to make it flow better and 2. to give everyone a better idea as to what reader's workplace looks like. also, i have gone back and fixed errors in all the previous chapters if u wanna check that shit out. these are all unbeta'd so sorry abt that.
> 
> My tumblr is at otaku-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com and i'll probably be posting art/ideas about the story there but only if i know readers of this story would be there checking them out, so if your on my tumblr, shoot me an ask! And let me know if you want me to keep stuff related to A!D!B! on my personal or if i should make a side blog.
> 
> Your feedback makes me a better person and your comments give me life, i literally love aLL OF YOU
> 
> http://otaku-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com/

He blinks at you. You think you may have startled him with the way his eye fuzzed up with static for a second. Before he could get his bearings, you continue.

"I _can't_ go on that stage, Mettaton! I'm terrified of crowds! I'll panic up there!"

He looks at you like you're the strangest thing in the universe after he'd recovered from his shock. He maintains eye contact with you even as his hands continue to remove your shoes, replacing your colorful striped socks with BP's plain black ones.

"Sweetie, you're not going to be alone up there."

Despite the comfort that gives you, you're still sweating bullets.

"Mettaton, I _can't_. If I mess this up, I'll be huge laughingstock at the least and _lose my job_ at worst. My boss doesn't even know I'm back here!"

"What? You're over-thinking this-"

"That's the thing! I'm not! Look, I know our 'conversations' in the past may have given you the impression I'm impulsive, or wild or something, but I'm really not!"

"I-"

"A-And honestly, why are we even doing this? I know _I'm_ trying to apologize here, but what are you- I mean- I'm trying to- I'm sorry, I'm kind of losing it right now." You're practically hyperventilating.

Mettaton gently places his hands on your cheeks. He turns your face back up to meet his eyes, pretending to breathe in and out very slowly. You follow his example and after a minute or two you're breathing somewhat normally. He reaches into his pocket and brings out a mint, urging you to suck on it.

As you do, he speaks.

"Listen, I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gone about this the way I have." His hands are still on your cheeks, rubbing in small circles. "Darling, I- you say you're not 'Impulsive or wild' and, you're probably right, but... Well, despite our butting heads, It is still _very_ obvious there is something unique in you. Maybe, a spark of some kind or something. I... well... with how many time's I'd practiced saying this the last couple days, you think I'd have something a little more eloquent for you."

That startles a laugh out of you as you suck on your mint. Despite the calming cool flavor, your face is getting _very_ hot with his words.

"I... What I'm trying to say is, well, there is a passion in you. Fire. Darling, It's the reason I love to interact with you, even if you've been driving me _crazy_ sometimes." He smiles and your stomach flips. "You're not Impulsive or wild, but you're definitely passionate. About what? I'm not sure. But it's in there, and its hot and burning and _dramatic_ and I can't help but be drawn to interact with you. I understand that... we have our _differences_ \- to put it lightly- but I still very much would like to get to know you."

Your eyes sting and you try to think of something to say. As you're opening your mouth to speak, a cute little fish woman appears around the corner and holds up her hand in the universal symbol for "Five" before shyly disappearing back behind the corner. Panic briefly flashes across his face as he turns back to you. His hands drop from your face and he's back to hurriedly tying your shoes.

"L-Listen, my darling, I'm going to be on in five minutes, I understand if you don't want to go on stage, but... I'd like to explain myself."

You tentatively nod.

He quickly gather's your hands in his. "Like I said, there is fire in you and- don't be mad- but it's definitely not seeing it's full potential here. Me, however, my passion is the stage. Anything and everything, as long as its me and a crowd, that's where my fire burns _hottest._ It's the purest way to express myself and, well, I had thought it would be a great way to get to know each other."

The hair over his right eye had been brushed away during his speech and he was now gazing at you with two pink, heart-shaped iris'. You take a deep breath, let go of his tie, and stand.

You're shaking.

He looks at you with confusion before you grab his hand and drag him towards the stage. Looking across the other side, you see the cute fish girl from before just off stage and... The cutest child's-drawing of a ghost you'd ever seen. You feel Mettaton squeeze your hand, and you look down at your intertwined fingers before meeting his gaze.

He moves the hand not currently occupied with yours and rests it gently on your cheek and you feel your breath catch in your throat as he leans down to kiss your hair.

Someone behind you clears their throat and there you find a man looking quite flustered, holding up his hand with the universal gesture for "one".

Well, here goes nothing.

 

* * *

 

"what do you mean you can't find them? they work tonight don't they?"

"I mean, like, _yeah_ , but like, we can't find them."

"Sans, don't worry. I'm sure they are still just chatting with Mettaton."

"Psh. Not to mention they're probably like, fucking busy."

" _Asriel!"_

Undyne laughed unabashedly and Alphys covered her mouth in humor as the flower mumbles out a soft apology.

Sans ignores them.

Yeah, he knows he's the one who drove you to this.

99% of him had been screaming for him to tell you to reject Mettaton's offer. Really, it was quite the internal struggle.

But then there was that horrible 1% of him who knew something like this  _had_ to happen sooner or later. Not a "Date", specifically, but an opportunity. You and Mettaton  _really_ needed to get this over with.

Let it be known that Sans is no fan of Mettaton, nor Mettaton of Sans. In fact, they were quite the opposite. Not exactly  _enemies_ , per se, more _unfriendly acquaintances_.  The two had a few stilted conversations. Then a few stilted arguments... Then, quite a few arguments.  Leaving the two in a room alone together was a recipe for disaster; a well known fact among the group. 

In fact, Sans' and Mettaton's relationship was quite similar to yours'.  _'Sans'_  the apologizing. Ha ha.

It wasn't so much that they hated each other's guts, more so their difference of opinion. In the underground, Mettaton had one job: Be a Star. That was essentially it, in Sans' eyes. He, on the other hand, had many. Not only to keep an eye on Frisk, but because he genuinely needed them in order to support himself and his brother. He had been making a comfortable amount of money as a scientist, but after... something... having to do with... hands...?- he left the lab and suddenly found himself unable to afford his lifestyle in the City.  Keeping multiple jobs was the only way for him to keep their cabin in Snowdin, and a roof over his brother's head.  Mettaton and himself often butted heads over the fact. Much like they way you and the star had.

Sure, It may have been a tad hypocritical for Sans to be so insistent that you make amends with the same robot he himself could hardly stand, but there was reason. At least, a little bit.

While Sans' was content with keeping multiple jobs- all fairly paying and not especially taxing- he could tell the same was not true for you. Sans currently held positions at some nameless fast food restaurant, New Grillby'z, and, oddly, a planetarium in the city. All wholesome workplaces. All things the  _Rat and Wheel_ was  _not._  

You were not thriving here. He could tell. Everyone could tell. Even Frisk- who had only met you  _today_ _-_ had expressed their concern.

The night he had fallen asleep draped across your lap, you had had a stress dream about your job. He hadn't known where you worked at the time, but he knew wherever it was, it was not a happy environment and seemed to be taking a toll on your psyche. 

How did this relate to the tin can? It did quite a bit, actually.

While it was obvious that you were completely unaware of the toll this place had taken on you, he knew above all else that Mettaton would be one to call it out. Despite where Sans had butted heads with the robot, he acknowledged that the man had admirable ethics when it came to the workplace.  Despite Mettaton's habit of embarrassing particular employees, he'd never mistreated any of them on a professional level. Much unlike your boss, who obviously abused your will to work hard while tossing around words like "bastard" and "brat" and "priss" behind your back. Or, as he'd witnessed, not-so behind your back.

And, while all of this was true, there was another reason that was less to do with work-place ethics.

San's was no fan of how quickly you'd dismissed Mettaton during your second hang-out session at your apartment. Mettaton had brought up exactly the things Sans had expected him too, but in your dismissal of Mettaton, you were also dismissing the points that he brought up.

Your boss is mistreating you.

The hours you're working in a day are unreasonable.

You're under-appreciated.

You were chalking all this up to Mettaton being a pampered superstar- which, to be fair, he  _is_ \- but he's also concerned. Everyone is. Except you.

Sans can hear your boss's voice grating over the speaker, announcing the show's start. With a sigh, he decides he might as well pay attention to the stage.

 

* * *

 

 

Mettaton had pranced out ahead of you, telling you that he'd wave you in when it was time. 

You can only remember a few number of times you've ever been this scared in your life and most of them are also stage-related. He's giving a speech to the crowd, thanking them all for being there etc., etc. ...

You think you might choke on your mint.

The lightest pressure you've ever encountered-like a feather landing on a pile of other feathers- connects with your shoulder and you barely restrain a yelp. You're so high-strung, you think it would be safer to say it might have been a scream. Twisting around with wild eyes, you find the cute fish girl and adorable ghost from the other side of the stage standing behind you. Cute ghost quickly removes their nubby little paw from your shoulder with the most subdued sad-face you've ever seen.

"O-ohh... I'm sorry...... I.. I didn't mean to scare you..." Their voice is so soft you can barely hear it over the sound of the crowd. Your expression immediately softens as big fat ghost tears well up in their eyes. Your soul shrivels up, dies, and turns to dust all at once.

"Ah- I- No, don't cry- you just startled me. Uh, please don't cry." You tentatively reach out to lay a hand where you imagine their shoulder would be if they weren't completely smooth. They lean immediately into your touch, despite the fact that you phase through them slightly. "What- ah- What's your name?" You try to rub them comfortingly. "Try" being the operative word there.

"Oh.... It's not important.......... But... It's Napstablook....." 

"Well, that's... a name. It's nice to meet you."

You glance to the cute fish girl. She gives you a soft smile before peeping out "Shyren."

They're both looking at you expectantly now. You're confused for about a full second before you realize. You tell them your name.

"It's... That's a cool name..... It's really nice to meet you........ My cousin... Mettaton... talks about you...."

Your brow furrows. Really? "It's... nice to meet you too."

"Y-Yeah!"

You smile softly. You like these guys.

These two have calmed you so much that you've almost forgotten that you're about to be on stage in front of a ton of people. Almost.

You glance back to Mettaton still on stage speaking. He turns back to you and your heart stops as he gestures to the three of you. He say's something- You're not sure what, because all you can hear is your heart pounding in your ears- and Shyren floats on-stage. Oh, God, He must be doing a roll call. He's about to call you on, isn't he?

There's that soft touch on your shoulder again, and when you turn back to Napstablook, they're  giving you such a big smile that it takes you a moment to realize that they're crying. Upward. Before you can even think to lean in and comfort them, you realize that their tears are actually forming together between the two of you and... shaping...

A heart.

You look at them in awe with, you're sure, a huge smile on your face. 

"Don't.... Don't be scared........... You'll do great!" they say, before their name is called and they're floating off to join the others on stage.

Tears suddenly appear in your eyes as you hear your name called. With a smile, you quickly wipe them away, and jog forward to meet Mettaton and the others in the spotlight.

 

* * *

 

 

Tonight had probably been the best day of your life.

There had been a murmur of confusion from the crowd when you had appeared on stage alongside the three monsters they all knew and loved, but had been quickly forgotten as the four of you proceeded to put on the best show the group had ever performed. You were his lovely assistant in his magic show, back-up dancer in his vocal performance, assistant chef in his cooking program, and co-host in his talk segment.

You were awkward and scared and anxious the whole time but you were  _having the time of your life._

And you saw a side of Mettaton you've not seen before.

You kind of want to kiss the shit out of him when the four of you finally walk off stage.

As a matter of fact, you do .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know a couple chapters ago i said that i was going to have the porn scenes in a different fic but now im just like "fuck it, ill keep it all in one place." SO.  
> when porn happens, it WILL be in this fic, BUT its still completely skippable. porn chapters wont have any important plot in them, but if they do it'll be referenced in the following non-porn chapter.


	11. Sleep With a Robot Time. ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You sleep with a robot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PORN CHAPTER!!! so like, please read the following:
> 
> Author is 18 years old and, honestly, I'm very uncomfortable with people under that age reading the following. Like, I know I've got no way to stop you if that's what you choose to do, but the idea of it makes me SUUUUUPER uncomfortable.
> 
> So, please, if you're underage, don't read the porn chapters. The fic is completely the same without them, you're not missing much.
> 
> But if you ARE 18+ please enjoy this filth and have a MERRY christmas
> 
> http://otaku-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com/

So here you are; flipped over onto your back with a hot robot sitting on your lap, heart shaped irises trained on your lipstick-covered face as you laughed a stitch into your side.

You're not even sure you were out of the sight of others when you had dragged him off and kissed him.  Despite the force with which you plowed your face into his, it was incredibly sweet. His lips were soft and pliable and kind of tasted like strawberries. When you'd pulled away, you felt light and warm and all these wonderful, happy things. You're almost certain you were smiling like a dork.

Mettaton looked surprised.

He was quiet for a looong moment and left you feeling like you'd made a horrible mistake. Like, spin-the-bottle at thanksgiving dinner kind of bad idea. When it finally sank in how impulsive and reckless you'd just been, you immediately began to apologize. Just as you started to speak, however, his eyes trained in on yours and, before you could finish the first sentence of your undoubtedly long-winded apology, he'd grabbed you by the shoulders and was back to kissing you like he was running out of time.

Needless to say, the two of you craved privacy.

You somehow managed to make it back to the bus without tripping over anything with both of your reluctance to disconnect your faces from one anothers'. And boy, were there obstacles. You made a mental note to get onto the "-atty" girls for their illicit trash-selling shenanigans.

At the bus, considerably more interestingly, making out ensued. What with you pressing him against the door of the bus and him making gorgeously unrestrained little gasps with the way your fingers played in the wires at his hips, it was a miracle that the two of you managed to tear away from each other long enough for him to get the door open. Even then it was a struggle to keep your hands off one another and get anywhere. His legs were especially distracting as he leaned over and attempted to open the lock.

Once inside, the two of you were right back on each other; his hands up the back of your shirt, your fingers digging into any seams you can find and fluffing his wires like feathers.

His little gasps seemed to say he liked that.

Back in the present, however, here you are. You're wiping tears from your eyes and he's ruffling your hair like you're some rambunctious child. And you're still on the floor.

Eventually, his butt starts digging into your ribs and you're finally coming down from laughing harder than you have in years, making you increasingly more aware of the _ow, ow, shit, cramp_. You tap his thighs to let him know you want up and once he's standing, he gives you a gorgeously manicured hand to haul yourself up with. Now that you're both on your feet, he starts to lead you to the bedroom. You surprise him, however, when you instead drag him to the table, beckoning him to sit across from you.

He sits beside you instead.

"Is... Is something wrong, dear?"

You give him a soft chuckle, rubbing your neck. "Other than the pain in my side from laughing so hard? Not really."

He smiles.

"Well then, er, care to explain why we're sitting here in awkward post-coitus when we're still  _very_ much  _pre_ -coitus?"

That startles a laugh out of you, and you grimace at your side pain. Before you can even say anything, he has his hand over the pain.

Is... Is it warming up?

And  _vibrating_ _?_

You elect to keep your surprise to yourself.

"I just... Well, I wanted to level with you. Everything in the last..." you check your phone. "... Seven minutes was pretty sudden, I know, and I just wanna make sure both of us are actually comfortable with... us... _You know_ -ing."

He raises a perfectly drawn eyebrow at you. "Canoodling?"

You give him your best scowl, but you really can't _not_ smile right now.

He gives you an indulgent grin before turning thoughtful. You take a moment to do the same.

Despite how wonderful the last seven minutes were, you still weren't on friendly terms with him three hours ago. Kind of a glaring fact there. But, well, after going on stage with him, you feel like you learned so much more. From the way he made sure to keep the rest of the cast on-stage with him included, from the obvious thrill and passion the audience gave him, and from how, despite doing a million things at once, he always made sure you were having fun. He could see the obvious signs of nervousness, but every chance he got, he would subtly lean into you and make sure you wanted to go on. 

Somehow, every time, you did.

Somewhere, between the dancing and singing and cooking, you started to trust him.

Having your answer, you glance back to look at his face. Your eyes meet, and he seems to be embarrassed for having been caught watching you think.

You shake your head at his antics and lace your fingers together. At his encouraging squeeze, you chuckle and turn his face so that you can kiss him again.

Pretty soon, the two of you are back at it. He backs out of the booth and you follow him in your reluctance to stop kissing his stupid, pretty face. He walks the both of you backwards the whopping distance of four feet to the bedroom door, where you proceed to pin him with your hips, earning you a delighted gasp. You smile against his lips as he dramatically drapes one of those long, long legs over your ass.

Somehow, in the midst of imitating a bipedal pretzel, the two of you manage to make it through the door

It's tiny and awkward to maneuver in, with the bed being about a foot or two in front of the door.  For the moment, however, you're thankful. As you get the door open, Mr.MTT immediately falls through and the wonderful door to bed proximity keeps from ruining the moment as he falls harmlessly onto the bedspread and not the (oh so less preferable) floor.

He looks at you with stars in his eyes and you slowly follow him. Along the way, you hook his knees over your shoulders and, from the sound of his cooling system, he enjoys that too.  Instead of going for his lips like he so obviously wants you to do, you lay a soft kiss to the cabling under his chin, taking your time digging your tongue in between the wires and tubes. He's hiding his face in his hands and you laugh softly into his throat, taking great pleasure in the minute shiver that passes through his body.

You're  _really_ enjoying yourself. Mettaton is  _very_ responsive and you're now easily distracted every time you find a specific wire or seam that elicits a new response from the robot. You've actually started making a game out of it; how long can you tease the same spot before his legs start trembling on your shoulders and he tries grinding his hips up onto your midsection. You also found a wire that makes his left hand spin at the wrist uncontrollably. He found that less entertaining than you did.

However, you can tell its really time you get to the, ahem, "good part" when just pressing your lips to him has him whining desperately.

Of course, you're not entirely unaffected. Feeling the heat between his legs pressed into your tummy and hearing all of his little noises has you going mad with power.  Your problems with the robot may be resolved, but it's still incredibly therapeutic to have the other so helpless under you.

The fact that you could have Sans sit on your shoulders and still not reach the robot's height doesn't take away from it either. Power to the tiny doms.

Back to "the now", however, hes grinding rather insistently on you and the way he keeps opening and closing his mouth as if to speak is giving you the suspicion he has something especially dirty to say.  You think you've had your fill of teasing him into a whiny mess anyway. (Not really, though.)

"What is it, baby?' You coo down to him. He practically sobs behind his hands.

"O-oh god, d-darling please I need- I-..."

Is... is he really going to say it?

"Oh fuck, I-I need you-!!"

You remove your lips from their current fascination with his speakers before letting out a sudden laugh. You lean as far forward as you can and give a quick nip to one of his fingers. He yelps and as soon as the hand is out of the way, you rise slightly and crash your mouth into his, swallowing his angry reprisal. Leaning all your weight onto your left arm (which you conveniently use to pin his own down and keep him from re-covering his face), you use your right hand to slip down to the smooth paneling between his legs.

Something just occurs to you.

Your hand continues to fondle the smooth, shiny panel. He's actually close to sobbing at this point.

Mettaton is very naked right now.

Reluctantly, you pull away from his mouth. At his very desperate and confused look, you gesture with your eyes towards his groin.

He sticks you with a glare. "Really?"

"Mettaton, do you know how many other robots I've slept with?"

He rolls his eyes and a moment later hear a soft 'snk'. You raise your eyebrows in surprise as your hand does another little circuit over his pelvis and you find... something. Dubiously, you disengage yourself from his legs and scoot down the bed slightly until you're face to face with what you're about to be working with.

Soft, pink folds glisten slightly with what you assume  _must_ be some kind of lubricant. Towards the top is what  _has_ to be a clitoris. Perfectly heart-shaped. You blink.

You also make a quick note that the "lubricant" definitely sparkles.

Well, when dealing with monsters, you make a note to check your human gender/sexual conceptions at the door. With great curiosity, you bring your face closer. Gently, you dart your tongue out to taste him. He gives a minute shiver as you do, and your world promptly crumbles around you.

His sex tastes  _exactly_ like his lipstick. This had to be intentional. Another quick look confirms that yes, its also the same glitter consistency. You stick him with a hard glare, but he seems to be too intoxicated with the sight of your face hovering between his legs to notice.

Regardless, something about unknowingly knowing what he tasted like from the moment the two of you kissed had you rubbing your own legs together and, before he could get impatient with you, you got back to work. 

And boy, was it hard work. You sucked lines down his labia, weaved your tongue in nonsensical patterns from top to bottom, and you hummed with your lips fastened around his little heart-shaped clit, until he was sobbing under you. Minutely, you worry his, erm, juices might not be edible.

 His thighs are quaking on either side of your head and his soul beats rapidly in its glass cage at his abdomen. Just like with kissing him, you absolutely can't get enough. The sweet, berry taste of his pussy is pleasantly forthcoming and as you delve a few fingers into him and caress the spot you were in no way surprised to find in him, it coats your chin and fills your mouth.

Well, if it is toxic, you're going to the ER with a big grin on your face.

It's too much. Perhaps not for him, since he continues to enthusiastically grind his sex into your face, but for you. You still haven't bothered to get undressed and are practically cooking in your work clothes. On top of that, the very specific juncture between your legs is soaking and uncomfortable. Occasionally, if you ground into your jeans in just the right way, you manage to get a moment of stimulation, but all it serves to do was leave you hungry for more.

By the time you begin to feel Mettaton quiver around your fingers, you're close to crying from the frustration.

Resting your weight on one arm, you manage to free your other hand (the one _not_  currently knuckle deep in robot pussy) and it immediately flies to the button of your jeans, undoing it with frantic clumsiness. Mettaton is thrashing all over the place, and between focusing on his soft folds and keeping your balance, escaping your jeans is taking far longer than it would under normal circumstances.

By the time the stupid, gorgeous robot finally hit his climax, you're helpless but to keep your mouth on him and attempt to draw it out as your own hand finally got your zipper down and wormed its way into your underwear. You Gasp and whine against his folds as you finally get some desperately needed stimulation. 

Mettaton is gorgeous. You'd always thought that- _everyone_ thought that- but that fact only exemplified how beautiful a person is while thrashing in orgasm.  All of his unrestrained little noises, soft quivers and harsh cries are beyond intoxicating with such a dazzling body to accommodate them.

Eventually, Mettaton comes down from his robo-orgasm and finally notices your plight. Furiously masturbating with your jeans halfway down your thighs and struggling to stifle your noises against his pussy.

You're startled out of your ministrations as big, strong noodle arms hook under your armpits and drag you up his body until your face rests on his chest. After a moment of nothing, you open your mouth to inform him that you'd like to return to your previous occupation of desperate self-love if all you were going to get up here was awkward eye contact but, before you could get a syllable out, you felt a pair of bluntly finger-nailed hands grip the hem of your shirt and begin to lift.

 _Finally_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: i really hated how characterless this and the next chapter were so i went back and changed it up a little!
> 
> also sorry again for tardiness, im back at it again with the (white vans) constantly working haheh h
> 
> i didnt want to make another apology chapter because it messes with the fic appearing in the tag at the right time but here it is!!!! Late!!!!
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME and for those of u motherly commenters out there, yes i've been remembering to eat and bathe bless u


	12. Embarrassment Time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You face a LOT of consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE SO MUCH TIME OFF THIS WEEK its heckin ridiculous. i guess since they've been working me like crazy the last few, but i have SIX days off in the next two weeks its fucking CRAZY.
> 
> HENCE one chapter right after the other.
> 
> so, as a thank-you to all the readers who have been putting up with my unpredictable posting schedule, im pretty much going to do nothing but write. i love you guys, i really do, and all your comments and feedback seriously make me so happy. i cant tell you how happy they make me
> 
> bless
> 
> otkau-douchebag-ponytail.tumblr.com

The next morning, you wake to the sound of talking.

You think hey, whatever, it's probably just your roommate. You bury your head under your pillow to go back to sleep.  You work the lunch rush today, so its one of the few days you get to sleep in.

You sigh contentedly.

You don't have a roommate.

The covers fly off you as you frantically wipe your eyes and scan the room. Before you can focus on anything in particular, you notice the room is very pink. And kind of smells intensely like strawberries. Slowly, the fog starts to clear from your eyes, and you spy Mettaton off in the corner talking animatedly on the phone and... Oh god is he a mess. You don't image you're looking much better yourself. You drag your eyes across him and somewhere between taking in his messy hair and eyeing his surprisingly heel-less feet, you remember everything that happened last night.

The pleasant ache all over your body also helps jog your memory.

Between the kissing, the sex, and your revelation of trust (and remembering to scold catty and bratty for their illicit trash-selling business in the alley), the memories have you flopping backwards onto the bed and humming happily, prepared to return to the land of dreams.  Blindly, you reach for your phone which you're sure has to be on the night stand. (Hm... Maybe it fell off...?

Just as your giving up on finding it, a weight drops onto the bed beside you and sends you flying about a foot. When your back hits the bed again (with a shriek), you suddenly find a messy little superstar resting his head on your bare chest, smiling warmly at you. You can't help but chuckle.

"Good morning, star."

He beams at you and gives you a quick peck to the sternum. _Oh no_ , you think, _he's cute._

"What time is it?" you ask, finally giving in and glancing to the night stand. No, your phone definitely isn't there.

"Hmmm... About 10:30."

WHAT?!

You practically throw him off of you as you scramble to find your clothes.

"Oh my God! I had an alarm set for 10:00! Fuck, fuck, fuck, I have to be at work in an hour- have you seen my phone? I had it on the night-stand and-"

"Darling-"

"Oh, forget it, I'll go in without it- Damn! Where's my underwear?

"My- darling, calm down-"

"Mettaton, do you have underwear I could borrow? Do you wear underwear? I swear I'll pay you back for them if you need me to- No, Actually, no time- Good lord my clothes smell _awful_." With the world's most disdained expression, you began to slip on your work shirt. Before you could even get one arm through, however, you feel cold, metal noodles encircling your waist. Immediately, they're dragging you backward- kicking and squirming- onto the bed until you feel a cold metal chest pressed against your back.

"Darling. Please calm down."

"I- Mettaton, please let me up, I'm going to be late for work and-"

"Your boss called this morning."

That stopped your struggling. You twist around on his lap to face him. "What?"

"Your boss called around 10 O'clock. I answered, and he told me to tell you that you have today off."

You blink rapidly, before cold panic sets into your gut. 

"Oh my god, I knew I shouldn't have gone on stage- He's punishing me now. Shiiiiit, he's going to cut my hours- I have to go talk to him and-"

"Really?" He says your name in a tone that has you stopping everything. You've never heard that tone coming from him. "You would take that all back? Really? From the dancing and kissing to..." He shakes his head at you. "You would take it back just for your stupid, awful job?"

You swallow around the lump forming in your throat. What do you say?

"M-Mettaton, I have a lot of bills to pay, and-"

"Just-Just get off me, please."

He looks like he's about to cry. A small part of your brain wonder if robots _can_  before hesitantly disengaging yourself from his lap. No sooner are you off of him is he sliding of the bed and slipping on a robe. He's out of the bedroom door before you can even think of what to say. 

You fall backwards onto the bed and groan into your hands.  Not so much the soft, morning-after cuddling you had hoped for.  You imagine you could have thought of something better to say as well. Slipping off the bed, you scan the room for another robe and, just by the door you find another. Golden yellow with "MTT PRODUCTIONS" encircled in a heart and embroidered on the back. Very Mettaton-y. Dropping the covers from around your body, you snag the thing and slip into the bathroom. You wipe off all the nastiness of sleeping and splash yourself with water, formulating an apology. Briefly, you wonder how many times you've done this in the past few days.

Heaving a sigh, you enter the "living room". Immediately, the first thing you notice is Mettaton sitting at the table with a cup of (what looks like) coffee. Nextly, you notice the crowd outside.

With a yelp, you duck back into the bathroom.

Oh god, where did all those people come from?! Had they seen you? Had they taken  _pictures?_   The bus was completely surrounded on all sides by people with cameras and booms. You hadn't seen any flashes but, then again, someone drinking coffee isn't exactly news-worthy. You had only been out the door for a split second after all, not nearly enough time to be noticed.The last thing you need is magazines talking about the " _gold-clad mystery lover spotted with Mettaton"._ What a nightmare. Tentatively, the bathroom door creaks open and Mettaton pokes his head in to see you sitting on the toilet cover practically hyperventilating. Spotting him, you practically drag him over to you where you then proceed to hide under his robe.

Being sure to close the door, he slowly kneels in front of you and urges you to look at him. "Darling, the windows are tinted. I promise you they can't see us in here." You search his eyes for truth. 

Heaving a huge sigh, you hold his cheeks and rest your forehead against his, thoroughly calmed. He nods and starts to stand but hesitates at your soft, worried noise. Sighing, he squats down again, none too happily. He makes sure you're aware of this as he rubs your back.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Mettaton- I just panicked."

He hums noncommittally. You're losing his interest. You tap his cheek to get his attention and he glares at you.

Leaning in, you give him a soft kiss to the lips. Despite the soft hum he gives as you move your lips against his, he still doesn't look happy with you as you pull away. He does look somewhat placated, however.

"Mettaton, I... I do worry about my bills. I don't make a lot of money, and I don't really have anywhere to go if I lose my appartment." He looks like he's about to say something but you interrupt him. " _But_ , I wouldn't trade last night for the  _world_. None of it." 

He blinks at you, surprised.

"My boss is probably pissed at me, and it may be hard to get back on his good side, but... I'll make it work. I'll make him forgive me.  If I lose this job, I'm kinda fucked, but It'll be worth it. Yesterday meant everything to me."  _I'm glad we're... something._

Mettaton is beaming at you and, before you can say anything else, he's kissing you again. You hum delightedly. When he pulls away he's even giving you Eskimo kisses that pull soft, light-hearted giggles out of you.

"Who's not impulsive and wild?" he teases. That brings even more laughter out of you.

You give him another quick kiss before standing, bringing him up with you. You can't help but notice just  _how much_ taller he is than you in such a confined place.

"I'm pretty sure I saw coffee out there." you chirp up to him. He shrugs. 

"No, but I could make you some if you like?"

"Yes, please."

The huge crowd outside made you nervous, but after you were absolutely sure no one from outside could see you, it was much easier to relax into Mettaton's side and enjoy your day starter.

"Wait, did you say  _you_ answered my boss on the phone?"

"Er, yes? Why?"

Mortified, you bury your face into his shoulder.

"Oh my God, he totally knows we fucked now."

 

* * *

 

 

Knock knock knock.

No answer.

He repeated. He'd been here for ten minutes now.

That ridiculous bouquet of roses you see in every movie-star cliché that he knew you would think were hilarious were weighing on his arm and he was kind of getting tired of waiting for you.

He knew he could always just zoop right on in, but that seemed like an invasion of privacy he wasn't exactly comfortable with. Instead, he decided to shoot you off a few quick texts. 

**hey, are you home?**

Nothing back.

**i got you something, ill leave it by the door.**

As he was putting it back into his jacket pocket, he felt it vibrate in his hand.  He was a little embarrassed with how quickly he whipped his phone back out to check.

Contact name: Tsundere-Baka. He grinned.

**Hey! Sorry, I'm not home RN. Is it important? I'm not far away.**

**nah, but i can come to you. wya?**

**Um. Not a good idea. OMW.**

Sans raised his eyebrow.

**dont worr abt it. see u at rat and wheel?**

**Nope! My boss gave me the day off. I think he's mad.**

**oh ok.** Sans scratched his chin.  **wanna do something than? its my day off too.**

**Uhh... Sorry. I've got plans. On top of apologizing to my boss.**

Sans shoulders sagged.

**i get you. see you tomorrow?**

**Sure! see u later Mr. Lazybones ;)**

 

 

* * *

 

 

"You're... Not mad?"

"I mean, I damn well aught to be, shouldn't I?" Your boss growled. You shrank slightly. "But, no, somehow I'm not. You and Mettaton had the crowd going crazy- we were selling drinks all over the place! And when word got around about the "Mysterious partner" of his, we had another almost double of the guests to show up. Do you know how much money I made just by selling water bottles in the parking lot?"

You shake your head. He doesn't bother to tell you.

"Anyway, I want you back on stage with him tonight. As well as tomorrow." Cold panic rises in your gut.

"Oh, by the way, with how much we made, you're all getting a small bonus. I have to to avoid tax ramifications. So here."

Any complaint you had before disappeared as you saw the amount on the check. You think you might go grocery shopping today. As you walk back out of the office in a daze, Mettaton stands there smiling at you. You cant help but smile back.

 

 


	13. Shopping Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go shopping, and see some friends...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, so if you didn't notice, i actually went back and edited the last two chapters because i wrote them when i didnt have a lot of sleep under my belt so they were SUPER characterless and bland
> 
> so if you havent gone back and reread them, you should man. i put a couple zingers up in that bitch
> 
> anywho-diddly heres the googily goddamn chapter

You don't want to call him  _clingy,_ but... He's... Literally clinging to you .

"I'm- I'm just going to the bathroom. Seriously, there's only one door, I won't escape."

He pouts at you. Somehow. He's in his calculator form (which had inspired its own pout earlier when you mentioned its likeness) right now and youre honestly amazed he has expressions at all but, despite all odds, he's definitely pouting at you. 

And clinging.

"Tch! I'm hardly holding you prisoner, dear."

The strength of your side-eye disagrees.

"Well... Considering that you dragged me to two _-_ not one, but _two-_ different Victoria Secrets; made me try on bras at said Victoria Secrets; and then bought me the _gaudiest_ of the bunch; I'd say yeah. I feel imprisoned."

He was silent for a moment before throwing his arms in the air. "Free bras!!"

 You scoff at him. He's right though.

Back to the point. "Mettaton, I gotta pee."

"Oh, can't you hold it dear? There's a Claire's right there!"

Flash backs of being 10 cross your mind and you shake your head vigorously. "I'm going to pee. Just freaking wait here."

With that, you duck under his clinging and enter the bathroom.

" _Fine_! But if you take too long, I'm coming in there!"

" _Don't_!" You call back to him.

 

 

* * *

 

You'd been there a few minutes now. Really, how long does it take humans to pee?! You really aught to do the sensible thing and have your food dissolve into your body instantly. No messy after affects.

Regardless, you were still peeing.

And Mettaton was bored.

He still felt guilty for turning on you earlier that morning but... Well, the thought that you could just regret all of that just because of your stupid job... That you could give up on all the progress you'd made... It stung. 

After your elaboration, however, he couldn't have been happier. 

You were, at least he hoped, starting to realize that there are more important things in life than work. Also, the kissing and sex was nice.

"hey."

If Mettaton had eyes in this form, he would have blinked in surprise.

"Sans? What are you doing... Well, anywhere?"

Ignoring the blatant allusion to his laziness, Sans shrugged.

"eh." So eloquent. "My bro insists on taking me on 'walkies'."

Mettaton perked up at that. "Your brother? Is he here?"

Sans tensed. "... why...?"

"Tch. Don't be coy, you know I love that bonehead to pieces- where is he?"

 Just then, said bonehead popped his head out from around the corner, features lighting up at the sight of the superstar.

"METTATON!!"

"Papyrus! Oh my dear, I haven't seen you in ages!!" Mettaton cried, lightly embracing the skeleton.

"REALLY? HOW STRANGE!!! I SAW YOU YESTERDAY!!!"

 "Hah! Oh you're a delight, my dear, how's your day been?" He hummed, releasing the other from their embrace.

"WONDERFUL!!! WE WERE GOING TO TAKE A LEISURELY WALK BUT THEN  _SOMEONE_   TELEPORTED US THROUGH TIME AND SPACE TO" He held up his hands to make skeletal quotation marks. "'GET US THERE FASTER'."

Papyrus' intense sideways glare left little to the imagination as to who "someone" was.

Sans shrugged noncommittally.

"Well, lazy brother or _no_ lazy brother, it's a treasure to see you darling!"

Sans rolled his beady little eyes.

"well, what're _you_ doing here, anyway?"

Mettaton gave a robotic huff. " _Well,_ Ihappento be here with- oh! Well, with them! About time, my dear, you're lucky I had company to keep me occupied."

 

* * *

 

 

Is panic an appropriate response here? Because that's what you're feeling right now. Why? You don't know. 

But you definitely feel a cold panic settling in your gut.

"Hi, Sans."

"hey."

His posture says 'lazy' but his squinted eyes say 'what's your excuse?', obviously daring you to say _one_ wrong word.

Your heart says 'YOLO'.

You square your shoulders and meet his gaze. He seems momentarily startled by this but is almost immediately back to his same old, laid back self.

"How's it go-" suddenly, you cant breath.

"OH, HUMAN!! YOU WERE ABSOLUTELY RADIANT ON STAGE!!" Good ol' Papy releases you from his crushing hug and hold's you at arm's length, stars in his eyes. "YOU WERE SO NATURAL ON THAT STAGE, I'M SURE MY WONDERFUL MASSAGE COULD ONLY TAKE 50-  _NO_ -  _40%_ OF THE CREDIT!!"

Your face is so red you can't help but to bury it in your hands. Leave it to Papy to simultaneously sap your confidence and boost your ego in, what, three sentences? Bless him. Seriously.

"Th... Thanks, Pappers." You mumble, still trying to will away your embarrassment.

"so, anyway, what're you guys doing here anyway?"

"Oh, we- uh, we just decided the hang out." You decide not to tell him about the sex.

"i thought you said you were busy." As is one of your favorite past times, you squint at him.

You don't like how Sans is grilling you over this. So what if you wanted to hang out with someone else today? You're allowed to. You just cashed a check for woo-mama a lot of money and you kinda wanted to spend time with the person you spent last night playing bed-spread twister with. Not that he needed to know that. You snatch Mettaton's hand and link fingers with him, attempting to appear casual despite the force with which you did so. Mr. Mtt, at least, seems surprised. 

You had even planned to spend some time later with him. Well he can kiss that opportunity goodbye with  _that_ attitude.

"I am." You bark back.

"Er-" Both your and Sans' eyes snap to the robot. "... You're both welcome to join us...?"

Before either you or Sans could get a word in, Papyrus lights up. Like a  _quasar_.

"OH, METTATON, WE WOULD BE DELIGHTED TO!! HOW EXCITING- AND  _HUMAN_ -" You, as you naturally do whenever the jumbo skeleton's focus is on you, blush. "WE NEVER GET TO SEE YOU OUTSIDE OF WORK!! WELL, EXCEPT FOR SANS."

Ouch. Right in the guilt bladder. 

"Y...Yeah, we'd love to." Turning back to Sans, he's still giving you a sharp look but you brush it off. Whatever. He'll get over it or he won't; though you imagine if it persist's you'll have a talk with him. No big deal. Mettaton squeezes your hand.

"So, uh, where t-"

A loud shatter and shrill stuttering comes from the bathroom behind you. Maniacal laughter follows.

"Oh!! Is that who I think it is?!" Mettaton gasps and, despite your protests, pokes his head into the women's bathroom.

"Alphie!!!"

 

* * *

 

 

Despite having met them briefly before the show, you hadn't realized until now just how  _awesome_  Alphys and Undyne were. They'd  _somehow_ managed to get kicked out of the bathroom and had already got you kicked out of both Bestbuy  _and_ Sears. Despite having no affection for people who torment minimum wage workers, even the employee's seemed to be having a blast.  From helping a young couple transport three couches  _at once_ to improving a computer beyond the modern capacity for technology, no one really seemed unhappy by the end. It was just things that you weren't necessarily... allowed to do.

Alphy's and Undyne are awesome.

Papyrus and Undyne are on each other like glitter on glue, talking animatedly on a variety of topics including punching, anime, cooking, and hot nerds. You don't like how she gestures to you occasionally on that last topic. You try not to be offended, however, because she gestures to her girlfriend about twice as much.

And Mettaton really seems to like Dr. Alphys. They keep whispering to each other and whatever he's saying to her has her giggling and glancing back at you. Needless to say, it's making you nervous.

Sans still seems to be mad at you. 

Overall, it's been a fairly nice afternoon. You'd all gotten lunch in the food court, stopped in a couple stores and were all toting at least a one bag of purchases. By now, Mettaton, had broken off his conversation with the scientist and was back to holding your hand and rolling leisurely next to you, window-shopping. Sans glances pointedly between you and your joined hands. You shrug in an aggressive "WHAT?"-type gesture and he looks away.

You're getting tired of this.

Releasing Mettaton's hand (to his dismay) you quickly snatch Sans' arm and turn to address the group.

"We have to pee." You announce.

You didn't bother to catch the expressions of the rest of the group before you're dragging Sans off to the nearest bathroom. Which happens to be located inside Victoria Secret. You decide to walk to the next one.

Once there, You drag him in and, for extra privacy, into a random stall.

"Sit." You command.

He gives disdained glares between you and the toilet behind him before reluctantly laying down a little bathroom tissue and sitting. You crouch in front of him and gingerly lay a hand on his knee, giving him a worried look.

"What's gotten into you, man?"

To his credit, he at least looks guilty. And very interested in the floor. You give his patella a  gentle squeeze.

With nothing forthcoming from Sans, you sigh. "I... I'm sorry I kinda blew you off this morning. I Swear I didn't mean to." He doesn't meet your eyes. "I kinda thought that I was going to have to beg for my job back to my boss but, well, it was all fine. Me and Mettaton just decided to hang out to celebrate." You chuckle. "Celebrate our newly-cancelled rivalry."

He gives a soft laugh and you practically sag with relief. "I'd still like to hang out later, If you're available. And I work the dinner shift tomorrow... " You shiver briefly when you remember that you're likely going to be back on stage with Mettaton both tonight  _and_ tomorrow. Oddly, it's not from fear. "You could... Stay the night if you wanted. Just hang out. Netflix and chill."

He deadpans. You give him double pistols and a wink.

"i don't think your boyfriend would appreciate it."

Your breathing stops.

"W-What- I- We're not-" You bury your beet red face in your hands, groaning. "Oh, God, it's that obvious, isn't it?"

You peek between your fingers in time to see him nod with a huge grin on his face.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so good news for me, bad news for you
> 
> I managed to get some hours from my other job to fill in all the time i have off at the first one, so yay! ill be working and boo! i have no more days off to work on this. i hope you realize how much i love you guys, im getting up at 4 am just to have an hour to work on a chapter each day. this is because i love you


	14. Movie Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You watch a movie with Sans. Just the two of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyy lmao im getting a house soon im really frickety nervous. I even picked up a third job fucking slay me
> 
> Also the conversation at the beginning is based off of me and my soon to be house mate he is an aaaasssss hooooole lmao
> 
> ok enjoy the chapter also completely unrelated go watch all the avengers movies if you havent. seriously, go do it. they're great

"Oh. My God. Will you please just make a U-turn? You can make one right up there."

"ok."

"Sans, you're in the wrong lane."

"ok."

"Sans you're in the wrong lane. Sans- Sans you're going to miss it-"

"ok."

"... Make a U-turn up here. And _don't_ keep going."

"ok."

"Sans! You just missed it again!!"

"i thought you told me not to keep going on the u-turn."

"..." You slump down into your seat and groan right into his shoulder. He's _so_ doing this on purpose. You might actually be mad if you weren't trying to keep from laughing.

The shopping trip had concluded not long after your conversation with Sans in the bathroom.  Not that the two were related, It's just that everyone had spent all that they had wanted to spend for the day (except for, of course, Mettaton) and it was the natural following that you all go your separate ways. At this point, you gently explained your situation to Mettaton and told him that you'd rather return home with the skeleton. Naturally, he was grumpy about it. A few quick, private smooches and the promise of some, ahem,  _special care_ later swayed him. All on the condition that you agree to meet him an hour before the show so that he could appropriately dress you for the show tonight, of course.

You kind of _do/_ kind of _don't_ regret making that deal. Despite your mixed feelings, you're going to punch Sans when the two of you get off this motorcycle. You're still not even sure how he convinced you to get on the thing.

When you'd approached Sans and asked if he'd mind being your ride home so that the two of you could start your hang out time early, he'd gone a little wide-eyed and a little nervous but agreed nonetheless. He  _did_ do his little magic trick first before explaining that you would, in fact, be driving. Now, you wonder if this is even technically driving. With how tightly your arms are wrapped around him, you think it might be more reasonable to call it _high-speed strangling_. At any rate, he doesn't seem  to mind.

"You're doing this on purpose. That way would have been so easy to get back on the main road!"

"yeah, but there was a turtle."

"... I'll give you that one."

By the time you've given up on being frustrated and anxious, and sure you're even farther from home than the mall was, you... well... you're home.

"Wait, you mean you could have just teleported the bike here? You can teleport objects, too?"

"well, considering i don't show up naked everywhere i go, i'd say yeah."

"You could have done that from the start!  Do you realize how much gas you just wasted?"

You feel more than see his smug expression. "i wouldn't call it wasted."

Just then you realize how tightly your arms are wrapped around him, your face pressing into the hood of his coat and your cheek flush against his. You guffaw at him before blowing a nice, wet, icky raspberry against his cheek.  "You're such a brat." you whine as you climb off his bike.

He groans at your human ickiness, and you swell with pride. That's right, you're easily ickier than any other human. As he wipes your slobber on his sleeve, he deadpans at your proud posture.

"who's a brat?"

You stick your tongue out at him. He must have taken it as a threat because he grimaces and follows you without another word. Regardless, you smile victoriously. Human ickiness trumps all.

 

* * *

  

Once you get to your door, you turn the lock and let Sans in. On your mat, you notice a few stray petals of... Something red and frown, scraping them away with your shoe before following the skeleton in.

"Okay, so on the list for tonight I have..." Reaching under the coffee table, you pull out the small stack of DVDs you had prepared for your and Sans' next movie night. " _Galaxy Quest, Spaceballs,_ and..." Oh.

Sans eyes you curiously. You can feel your face flare up red and you subconsciously hide the DVD behind your back.

"U-Uh yeah.  _Galaxy Quest_ or  _Spaceballs;_  choice is yours- but I have to recommend finishing  _Star Trek_ and  _Star Wars_ before we watch  _Space Ba-"_ you feel a slight tug at your wrist.

You glance at the skeleton and see a faint blue glow residing in his eye. Panicking, your eyes flick to your wrist currently hiding the DVD behind you back and see the same horrifying shade of blue encircling your wrist. 

"No..."

The soft tug becomes slightly more insistent and you feel sweat bead on your forehead. "Sans... No..."

Too late. Before your glare can gain any real momentum, he has your hand flying out from behind your back. Luckily for you, using the skills you had most likely learned from years of playing some hand-to-ball related sport, you manage to toss the disk case from your magically-occupied hand into your non-magically-occupied hand and frisbee throw it out the window behind you. 

Thank god for sportball. 

Smugly, you turn back around to see... Sans reading the cover. 

"avengers:age of ultron...?"

"Wh- _did you just-"_

 _"_ teleport outside, catch the dvd, and then teleport back inside to dramatically drape myself over the couch all before you could turn around?" he gives it a moment's thought before shrugging. "who knows."

You can practically hear the blood rushing to your face. He doesn't seem to get why you would be so embarrassed by such a seemingly innocent film... Until he turns it over.

"oh." That grin is so shit-eating that it's practically a toilet. "this must be ultron, then."

"Oh my god can we please just watch _Galaxy Quest_?"

"y'know..." He begins, and you prepare yourself for humiliation. "i'm beginning to think you have a thing for evil robots."

You look at the band-aid that Papyrus had given you just the other day. 

"Jazz isn't evil." 

"you admit your boyfriend is?"

You're screaming both internally and externally.

"HE'S- oh my god we're not- Sans you're gonna make me cry." 

Apparently, your whining is pathetic enough that he releases your wrist. 

Not enough to keep him from opening the case and slipping it delicately into your laptop's disc tray, however.

 

* * *

  

Movie night is awful. 

You're so embarrassed that you cant even bring yourself to cuddle your friend. You manage to find solace in that he texts through the first part of the movie. You're quickly relieved of that solace as soon as you realize that that innocent texting was actually a very discreet way to invite. Everyone. 

Even Burgerpants is here. 

Sans also, apparently, had neither the tact nor pity to disclude Mettaton.

So this was your life now, sitting in a ball of fluster, buried under a robot who somehow managed to squeeze himself behind you, and trying not to whimper at Ultron's little _gasp_ towards the end of the movie in front of the 10+ monsters in your living room. It's fairly packed in there. Alphys and Undyne have an arm chair to themselves, naturally; Sans and Toriel sit next to each other companionably on the other end of the couch (room by Sans having been made when you'd scooted as far away from him as possible after realizing his plan). Everyone else is in varying degrees of being draped on either the furniture or floor.

At least, it seemed only you and Sans were privy to your new found hot robot-related humiliation. 

Well, Mettaton too.

"You never told me you had a _type_ , darling." He whispers into your neck, where his head is currently cradled. 

You give him a withering look before whispering back "Next time we bang, I'm screaming out 'Johnny 5'."

He seems to take a moment to look up the reference on the computer that is his brain before gasping in offence. 

You snicker silently. "How about Jet Jaguar? Or GORT?"

"YOU- I- You're listing them off faster than I can look them up! That makes for fairly boring banter, darling." He's actually pouting at you now.

"Okay, how about Boilerplate, then?"

He takes another moment to find the name, and he looks _actually_ offended this time. "You could pick a... a... A more aesthetically pleasing robot _at the least!!"_

That actually draws you out of your hands for a moment. "I guess that's why I picked you, A-hole."

He looks somewhat pleased by this, anyway. He leans down and gives you a gentle smooch on the nose. Exaggerated gagging is heard from the love seat across you, where you see Frisk, (the apparent savior of all monsters, you learned) is sitting on Papyrus' lap. They're actually miming the whole process of barfing. Even having an obviously confused skeleton hold back their hair as they lean over the invisible toilet bowl.

Unable to help yourself, you stick your tongue out at them before kissing your boyfriend/not boyfriend right on the fancy winged eyeliner. They both groan at this.

Also Burgerpants. He's giving you a glare that _screams_ 'Traitor'.

Soon comes the scene where the 'He's fast' of the 'He's fast, she's weird' team meets his end. The room grows silent. 

"UGH why do we all have to watch this tiny screen! Thats the most blood I've seen in this whole stupid movie, and I can _barely_ see it."

You glare at the flower. He'd insulted your apartment as soon as he'd been carried in. You hate your appartment too, but only you are allowed to say that.

" _Asriel_!!"

As Toriel scolds the flower, Mettaton is giving you the same look he had given you at the mall. No, not the sexy look after you'd kissed him and promised him naughty things. Not the happy/lovey/dorky look he gave you every time you slipped your hand into his of your own volition.

He's giving you the 'Gaudy Sequin Bra' look. 

 


	15. Talk Time (Pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have a talk with Mettaton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really need to start this off with a thank you. Youve all been so patient with me and my honestly rediculous posting schedule and all your wonderful messages just mean more than you can know. Im honestly crying a little bit as i write this AN. its been a really strange and kinda horrible few months and so many of you offered support and kind words and i just dont think i can repay that kind of love. Ill have more chapters very soon for you, i love all of you.

"Mettaton, you're not buying me a tv."

You hear him scoff from the other side of the stall door- where he is, no doubt, draped dramatically by the sinks- and furrow your brow (both from the smell of the toilet you were hovering over, and from frustration).

With no further comment from the robot, you paused your toilet scrubbing and poked your head out of the stall.

Yeah, he's sitting on the counter side-saddle doing his nails. Obviously ignoring you. 

"I mean it. No tv."

"I don't see why not! You haven't got one and I can easily afford one for you! It just burns me up to imagine you having to watch my shows on some laggy, third-party website."

You decide not to tell him that you've never even seen an episode. Instead you duck back into the stall and spray the porcelain with more cleaner.

"No tv."  You reiterate.

He groans, and you're paying  extra special attention to the toilet in front of you, because you know that if you leave the stall now, he'll drape himself across you  in a way that will leave your resolve in tatters.

Kind of like how you left _him_ in tatters last night after your second time on stage, _amirite_?

Unlike his robostuff, however, youre determined to keep your resolve intact. 

"I don't get you." He whines. "You let me buy you the bras! A tv would hardly cost me anything."

"Ok, first of all? I didn't _let_ you buy me those. You threw money at the counter when I wasn't looking. Secondly? I don't want a tv. End of story."

You close the toilet seat resolutely, and the resulting _clang_ punctuates your statement quite nicely. Gathering your cleaners, you refuse to spare him a glance as you move to the next stall. About 45 seconds back into cleaning, you realize he's been more quiet than you've ever witnessed, excluding post-coital recharge. Suspicious, you peek through the crack in the door. He's fiddling on his phone. 

"What're you doing?"

He gives you a noncommital "Hm?" in response.

"Mettaton, what are you doing?"

He glances up and meets your glare through the door, and you push down the embarassment from being caught. 

"Facebook!" He barks back with a huff. 

You squint at him before sneakily sneaking a glance at the mirror behind him. Suddenly, your chest boils with anger. 

"You're tv shopping! I can see your phone in the mirror!"

"No you can't!" He screeches, cradling his phone into his chest.

You decide that this isn't a conversation that you should be having less than a foot from a toilet and step out of the stall, marching up to the robot. With each step, he looks more and more like a guilty little kid. 

"Give me the phone."

When he opens his mouth to argue, you snap your fingers to interrupt him. Reluctantly, and with no few mutters, he drops it in your palm.

You dont even bother taking off your dirty cleaning gloves. Phone in hand, you scroll down the site he was browsing and your jaw drops. 

"M-Mettaton- these are in the thousands! Do you know how long it takes me to make that much?"

"Well- do you mean you'll let me buy it?"

" _No_!"

He visibly deflates. 

"Have you seen my apartment? I couldn't fit that thing in there of i laid it on the _floor_!" He opens his mouth, but you interrupt him. "And before you say anything, that doesn't mean I want a smaller one."

He furrows his brow and shakes his head. "No but, dear, that reminds me..."

 

* * *

 

 

"He want's me to move in with him!"

"so?"

You glare at the skeleton on your couch. You'd decided to run back to your apartment for your 20 minute break and asked your skelefriend to meet you at the door. Which he did.

From _inside_ your locked appartment.

He's fiddling with his phone and seemingly not paying much attention, but you know from experience that his bothering to stay awake meant he was at least listening.

"' _So'_ we've only tolerated each other for about- what- 30 hours? -And at least 10 of those were spent asleep! And, like, about 4 were spent naked. That's not a lot to go on to be moving in with someone!"

Mr. Lazybone's 'nose' scrunches up at the mention of your apparent hours of nakedness with the robot, but soon dismisses it.

"don't see your point. you've got nothing tying you down here, and you still have a week to think about it."

You make a very unintelligent, full-body gesture of irritation at him before continuing to pace. "It's not about being  _here_ \- It's about independence! Wherever it is that the S.S. Dramaqueen lives, there's probably very little chance I could afford it, and I don't want to have to rely on him for bills- or anything for that matter!"

"so you'd rather sacrifice your personal happiness just so you can have a tiny apartment all to yourself?"

At least he's looking at you now. Eyebrow... bone raised at you and general aura clueing you in on exactly how impressed with you he is.

You remember making that list of things you wouldn't tell him. You were disturbed by how short it was, but this was definitely one of it's lonely inhabitants: You were never going to rely on someone for so much ever again. That was for  _damn_ sure.

The look on your face must have clued him in somewhere, because he suddenly looks surprised. Didn't pry, thankfully.

With a sigh, you plop down next to him.

The resounding  _crack!_ From the couch interrupts whatever else you were about to say.

 

* * *

 

 You wave goodbye to Mr. & Mrs. Bells. They left you a completely unnecessarily large tip and a gentle pat to the shoulder on their way out. You love those two. They usually love to chat you up-the angels- but it was obvious you weren't in the best of moods. Even BP and the 'Atty's were giving you a wide berth.

The couch- or, at least, the pitiful remains of it- was one of those fancy ones that pull out into a bed. It was also the  _only_ bed in your apartment and, not to mention, one of the only pieces of furniture. You had it, two tables, dining chairs, and a recliner. You suppose, in a crunch, you could sleep on the recliner, but the poor old thing leaves a delightful ache in your lower back after only a few hours- you'd likely get better rest sleeping on the floor. You explained this to your boss and he seemed to understand, letting you off the hook for the show tonight, but you get to spend that time couch shopping.

You still felt bad about sending Sans home.

At first he tried to laugh the whole thing off but, after seeing the pure, unadulterated panic in your face, he seemed to think better of it. He bid you goodbye and you thanked him for it. 

Rent still hadn't been paid for this month and you don't exactly have it in the budget- you're already going to be eating cheese on graham crackers for dinner tonight, trying to space out the groceries you'd bought with your bonus check. You suppose you could maybe-  _maybe!!_ \- stay with Mettaton for a couple nights until you built the funds up for a new bed but, well... You grimace as you wipe down the Bells' table, you just _know_ Mr. Mtt will try to twist this around to his Moving-In argument. It feels like you're back at day two, avoiding him and feeling generally irritated at his everything. 

He's being pushy. If it wasn't already presumptuous to ask you to move in after only... a look at your watch tells you about 39 hours since your last fight, he certainly was with how calmly _vehement_  he had insisted. 

_"No."_

_"Darling, Give it some thought-"_

_"Mettaton, no."_

_"You're being childish!"_

Ooooh, you could wring his stupid neck. Childish? _Childish_?! Did he not want to leave his favorite toy when he went home to the city after playtime in rural-fucking-nowhere?

Papyrus, who somehow managed to sneak up on you, moves your violently scrubbing hand over about a foot so that it begin to clean another part of the table to the glimmering polish that the previous spot of your furious attentions now boasted. You didn't even notice.

You want to stop being mad at Mettaton, but it's hard. Certain things that had happened in a certain time of your history with a certain person who you had certainly trusted quite a bit had you wary of resting on the good will of others. Especially when they insist and even more so when they _really_ insist. Call it paranoid, you call it learning from your mistakes.

Mettaton is off on the other side of the room talking politely with a fan and your gut twists like a spring.

 

* * *

 

 

You slept on the floor of your apartment that night. Your couch/bed would be delivered in the morning- paid for by your neighbor in exchange for your dining room set and your laptop.

 


	16. Talk Time (Pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have another chat with Mettaton. And you almost have one with sans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... Long time no see?
> 
> Honestly, if i tried to put down everything thats happened in the last year into this A/N it would probably be longer than the fic itself. More importantly, i made some scheduling promises for this fic that i didnt keep, and i cant thank everyone who decided to keep this crap-truck in their bookmarks enough; and i hope i can make this thing worth the wait. Please enjoy!

He knew that you were avoiding him the moment you came in to work. You arrived on time, but were forced to avoide the clock in computer for eight whole minutes before Mettaton felt pity and left the area for you.

He'd seen your methods of hiding before, and easily recognized them for what they where. He hasn't _told_ you this, but you know that emotion in his eyes as he skates across approximately 30ft of freshly waxed marble floor with grace that leaves you floored. Literally. Scrambling in a reverse crab walk to the unwaxed part on the floor; eyes locked with the tiny red targets of Mettaton's pupils.

Though you had gone to many lengths to avoide the superstar, (i.e. Taking your smoke breaks on the roof, shoving down your mid-day spaghetti in the bathroom, etc.) you have the suspicion that he may also have been avoiding you. It should not have been that easy to elude him, especially considering the things he'd told you about his magic, human-hunting x-ray eyes.

The comments had been pretty hot at the time; whispered in your ear from behind, fingers tightening in your hair as he...

But spending the day looking over your shoulder, hiding behind chairs and people, and even going so far as to step slightly out of uniform (an act so foriegn to your character it caused his eyes to pass right over you) just to avoid those terrifying x-ray eyes, the comment pushes you to the less fun side of exhilaration.

But in the current moment, the both of you had independently realized, being alone together on the VIP balcony with only a few tables and mere yards of slick flooring between you, that confrontation was now inevitable. 

And having both subconsciously decided your POA long before the inevitable altercation, it appears Mr. MTT had elected himself the Cat, and you had elected yourself the Mouse.

You had also elected to deal with that information about yourself _later_ because your right palm finally connects With textured, unwaxed linoleum to give you some leverage in pulling your body towards that sliver of hope before Mettaton can finish his twirl and come zooming after you. 

 He comes out of his plié in time to see you throw your self into a 180* turn…

And slam directly into the railing overlooking the dining room.

Surveying the floor surrounding you, you're horrified to discover that you stand in the only unwaxed portion of tile floor in the entire vip area- and Mettaton indulging in a victory spin approximately 6ft away. What idiot waxes the floor like this? Why not start at one end and finish at the stairs?!

Burgerpants, probably. You wonder if you could escape death by sending the robot on a BP hate-tangent. 

Not likely, considering Mettaton now stood less than a foot away, with hands clasping the rails on either side of you.

For a long moment all you can do is stare. Faster than you can even finish formulating your plan to escape, youre already putting it into action; ragdolling to the ground and attempting to floor surf between his feet and slide to freedom. You don't make it far before those noodle arms snag your collar and drag you back front-and-center.

Now he just looks furious.

You gulp.

"... What up?"

You can hear the steel railing warping beneath his grip but he remains quiet. It seems hes also at a loss for words.

"Uh... Sorry I wasnt on stage last ni-"

"Yesterday was the worst night of my life."

Your teeth audibly _clack_ from the force of closing your jaw.

"My voice sounded terrible, I couldnt focus at all-" he actually breaks eye-contact and you would have sighed in relief if your heart wasn't twisting into knots from his expression. "I couldnt find you anywhere. I didn't know if you had been taking out the trash and got snatched by some pervert in the alley, or fell of the roof after a smoke break or... Or anything! I finally found Ted and he told me what happened but..."

Water starts pooling in your eyelids. You open your mouth to try and spew out some comforting words, but then the softest little brush of sound leaves his lips, too quiet for you too hear over the bustle of the 5:00pm dinner rush below you.

"What... Mettaton, I cant hear you."

"Are you going to break up with me??" He shouts, point-blank into your face. You see he's already crying.

Any sympathy you had flew out the window.

"We'll talk after work."

You grab the wrist to your left and attempt to lift it out of your way, but he refuses to budge.

"Mettaton..."

"You've been avoiding me all day, I don't know what else to think! I just- I need to know!"

"I'm not doing this at work. It's unprofessio-"

"So you are! Please, just let me-"

"I'm not saying I am!"

"Than why wont you just say you arent!"

He looks like a panicked animal; like he's the one being cornered.

"Because I'm NOT. TALKING. ABOUT. THAT. HERE."

His face is so close to yours that his steaming breath is making your face sweat.

"I DESERVE TO KNOW!"

"I NEVER SHOULD HAVE DATED A COLLEAGUE!"

He takes a step back. "Y-You don't mean that, right?" Then he takes another, almost slipping on the slick floor.

Then you remember where you are. 

The dining room is silent. No sound of utensils against dishware, no chatter. Even the local opening band stopped playing.

A fearful look over your shoulder reveals hundreds of eyes on the both of you.

Before you can even begin to hyperventilate, blue fills your vision and the only set of eyes on you are the two little white pinpricks of your favorite skeleton. He slides the office chair under your butt before you can collapse on the ground and hands you a waste bin.

And then again, faster than you can process, the office door opens behind you and a hand on your shoulder spins you around to see your boss' stormy expression.

 

* * *

 

Just like that, you're unemployed.

Your appartment is barren. You own a couch and a chair, and you can only get so far trying to fill applications on your phone. After a couple hours, a drop from about only two feet convinces your phone to give up on life.

You eat 4 bowls of ramen just to have the microwave noise fill the silence, and when your body rejects the thought of ingesting any more sodium, you sit on your couch and struggle with the silence for another 20 minutes before giving in to your thoughts and weeping until you fell asleep, still in your uniform.

Your last thought was how much you wish you had a TV.


End file.
